Wouldn't Say Never
by Wicked R
Summary: How Tauriel came to care for her king. Starts where the movie leaves our characters, on Ravenhill. Eventual Thranduil/Tauriel.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Never Say

Disclaimers: Purely for fun only.

Genre: Traditional SICKFIC as you know it where plot might be necessary but is secondary to glorious hurt/comfort!

Rating: T with adult themes

Summary/Set: How Tauriel came to care for her king. Starts where the movie leaves our characters, on Ravenhill.

Pairing: Thranduil/Tauriel

Note: When I am writing, it's mainly for my own pleasure. It's what I'd like to see happen so when I reread it in a few months, years later, I find the story that is completely to my taste.

Balin, Bifur and Bofur hovered considerately, pained and in silence for a while over the grief stricken elf maiden till Bombur waddled up to them, giving each dwarf a comforting squeeze of the shoulder, arm or neck, "Dain wants all losses gathered, lay Kili in his rightful place by Thorin," he urged them for action.

"We've been trying.." Balin indicated the weeping woman on the ground.

"Dear Tauriel," Bofur started again, well aware of the elf's sacrifices for his kind, but not wanting to upset his new king either, who together with the remaining members of the company also would've wanted to be able to start mourning the death of the third in line for the throne. Bombur and Bifur stepped forward, tentatively touching an arm and side of the departed dwarf.

"No!" Tauriel reacted immediately, "there was no time," she whispered, voice hoarse with crying. "We didn't have enough time," she kissed Kili's hand as she held it in her own by her cheek.

"Let me handle it," Thandruil ascertained, letting go of the wall he has been leaning on the whole time. The dwarves looked at each other questioningly, why was the elvenking still here even and why would he get involved, but they stood back to let him do the deed anyway. Thandruil moved forward slowly, his gaze never leaving the daughter of the forest. Reaching the pair, he leaned on his sword and knelt by the distraught archer, eliciting another look in between the dwarves. They have expected the king to order Tauriel away, not get down to her level.

Thranduil reached out slowly to cup her face instead. "Customs are there for a reason Tauriel. They help the living endure and subsist. They will honour your warrior amply and fittingly, at least tolerably, if not satisfactorily for everyone's approval. You need to let go."

"I can't," Tauriel looked into her king's eyes, shaking her head.

"Yes, you can," the king encouraged, gently drawing her hands towards himself, "I'm here child."

The Silvan elf shook her head again, more in disbelief than anything else. It was hard to comprehend why Thranduil would approach her in such a manner, but her grief was more profound than letting disparate thoughts into her conscious awareness. All she grasped that there was another flesh and blood being with emotions offering her consolation. As he soothingly encouraged her, she moved slowly towards comfort till she found herself lurching forward to rest her wet cheeks buried into Thranduil's chest.

The king hissed at the sudden onslaught, his laboured breathing turning into a prolonged moan, "eeasy," he panted. But it was only when he swayed, almost taking Tauriel down with him that her, that her warrior reflexes kicked in and she steeled herself to keep them both on their knees and not toppling over to the hard ground. Involuntary warrior reflexes were at play when she finally took in his paler than usual and clammy face as well, the blueing lips, his usual typically fluid movements giving way to a dazed clumsiness. "You're injured," Tauriel mumbled, concluding in a haze.

"It doesn't matter right now," Thranduil assured, a slight movement of his head towards the dwarves indicating they have better start removing the body while Tauriel's focus shifted slightly to him.

"I..I think it does," the woodland elf pulled her hand back from round the superior elf's side, staring at the blood that now stained her clothes. "You need to lie down my Lord, and let me see. This amount of bleeding needs staunched," she came to her senses somewhat, spooked.

The elvenking glanced towards the ground behind him, making a hesitant move towards it, but the movement made him even more dizzy now that the fight or flight situation was over and his fingers grabbed hold of Tauriel's shoulder more firmly. Tauriel nodded, "I'll help you, slowly, just hang onto me," she encouraged as she manoeuvred him down just as gently as he had done getting her away from Kili previously. Making him lie back on opposite to the side he favoured, the skilled archer quickly removed his shoulder armour and visibly clobbered chest plate. His smooth, grey undershirt was ruined too, allowing bleeding through a long gash that came from his side to his ribs and reached his belly. It would all depend on what lay beneath those tatters but at the sight of such a possibly dangerous wound Tauriel sobered at any case.

"It's not..deep," Thranduil declared, seeing her disorientation.

"Don't move," Tauriel instructed raptly. She ripped some of her long, green robe off and moved to press it on the wound.

The king raised a hand to stop her, flinching, "don't. Not on broken ribs like that," he protested.

Tauriel nodded reassuringly, but placed the item on the gash anyway, trying to press down her fingers under his ribs rather than on them. "Balin! Bofur!" She shouted at the group of retreating dwarves who in the meantime have recovered and were carrying what they came for.

The dwarf warriors looked at each other, worried that Tauriel will refocus on their fallen friend again. Her eyes did indeed linger on Kili's limp form, but she got herself together before long, "can you send somebody down to let the king's guard know that he's up here and injured? I think Elessar will be in charge now. Please."

"But of course," Balin assured, nodding at her, not as much for the sake of the elvenking, but for the woman who defended his kind against all races, including her own.

"If you can, find Melwasúl too, the chief healer. Or any healer," Tauriel fretted, the further paling of Thranduil's face and the slowing down of his blinking not escaping her attention. He was starting to tremble too. "And could I borrow one of your hides?"

"Bofur, you should go ahead, the three of us will manage up here," Bombur convinced the other dwarves as they started their descent from the hill with baggage whilst Bifur shed his overcoat to leave for the king.

"You should've said you were injured," Tauriel admonished, ripping another part of her cloak off for bandages before using the dwarf's garbs to try to keep the warrior king warm.

"Would have you cared?" Thranduil huffed, causing himself a wince with the movement. He closed his eyes to ride out the wave of pain.

Embarrassed, the archer didn't answer the question, "is there anything else I can do," she probed instead, "are you in pain? Is this the best way to lie for you?"

"Leave it," Thranduil breathed softly, never bothering to open his eyes. He was too tired for any movement, even if it would help. Tauriel sighed, troubled. She would've wanted help to come immediately. Where were they? Where was the guard if not protecting Thranduil? And then suddenly she knew. The only reason they would not be around their king was if Thranduil ordered them away. He ordered retreat but he himself did not go. He would go after Legolas, who in turn came for her. Thranduil was alone and injured because of her.

Tbc


	2. Achilles

Chapter 2: Achilles

"How is he faring?"

Tauriel looked up to find Oin standing by her side. "He has lost a lot of blood, but he is aware," The elven maiden explained, still holding onto the makeshift bandages on the king's side.

"We are sending word to the elven, but in the meantime, Bombur sent me. I have some herbs if you need them," the dwarf usually entrusted with healing among the company offered. The archer nodded approvingly, somewhat calmed. Dwarf medicine wasn't that advanced, but it was better than nothing and she was no longer alone, deciding whether the king would live or die.

"He retched?" Oin established. The dwarf knelt at the king's other side and reached out to test the clamminess of his face. Thranduil blinked at him with pain filled eyes, but didn't comment. "I don't think there's blood in the heave, it's a good sign," the dwarf healer encouraged.

"But he's growing weaker with every moment," Tauriel pointed out.

Oin pulled out a small container from his breast pocket. "It should stop the bleeding."

Tauriel shook her head, "no. I'm not sure if it would harm an elf. What's in it?"

"Horsetail, branwen, callahan and marigold distillate."

"Branwen. I don't know what that would do," she looked over her king at a loss.

"Let me see lass," Oin encouraged her hands out the way so he can take a peek at the wound. Carefully not to relieve too much pressure, he inspected one side, than the other of the gash.

"Will he live?" Tauriel asked distraughtly, even though she knew just as much about healing as Oin, if not more, "he was alright and then all of a sudden he wasn't," she agonised.

"That happens in battle. People keep going, even with a fatal wound, as long as it's necessary. And then they'll just fall over. This amount of blood loos will not kill an elf, but wound sickness might. Hinges on whether the blade pierced the wall inside protecting his belly."

"He said the wound wasn't deep," Tauriel hoped, placing her hands back when Oin finished his prodding. Thranduil groaned at being jostled and the archer took in his furrowed eyebrows, his clamped lips, his trembling form, "do you have anything for the pain?"

"Yes," Oin assured and handed her a different bottle he took out from the same place as the previous one, "he would need to take at least two mouthfuls, being the size he is," the dwarf advised.

"Thank you," Tauriel uncapped the small bottle and gently tapped Thranduil's face to rouse him, "we could give you something for the pain?" She enquired. The answer wasn't intelligible, but judging by the way the moan sounded and his barely noticeable nod, the elvish maiden raised his head to be able to lift the vial to his lips while Oin took over the duty of applying the pressure bandage again. The king complied with her ministrations, albeit slowly and weakly and Tauriel lay him down again softly. Adrift, she stared at him, not knowing what else she could do without the proper ingredients for healing potions. So she became aware only distantly that his hand reached out little by little to cup her face again, "Ancalime.." he whispered, "**goheno nin."**

Tauriel bristled, not understanding the name or its reference, "there's nothing to forgive," the woman answered horrified. The whisper was probably not meant for her, but she had to calm the trembling ruler. Tauriel had been angry that Thranduil didn't lend his forces to aid the dwarfs on Ravenhill, but by now she was more angry that the price of him coming on his own was this high. "Don't you dare die on me!" She squeezed his hand roughly, not wanting the responsibility.

"Step away from the king!" A stern looking, wider than the norm elf shouted at her. Tauriel identified him as Erendit, previously in charge of the dungeons. Elessar was nowhere to be seen so it would make sense if Erendit took charge over the royal guard.

"Oin is just trying to help," Tauriel came to the defence of the dwarf before she found that it was herself who was addressed in such a grim manner as two members of the guard stepped forward and pulled her away from Thranduil. Oin was shoved away too to be replaced by the king's own healer, Melvasul, but the dwarf wasn't restrained and chained like she was.

"Tauriel." Erendit addressed her, "you are to be gaoled for attacking, threatening and imperilling our Lord Thranduil. Your fate will be decided when all that needs taken care of has been dealt with," he established. "Take her!" He instructed his inferiors. He got no arguments from the previous captain of the guard. Tauriel let herself be dragged away. She had managed to keep it together while the king needed her help but what did it matter to her what happened with her if the love of her life was dead?

Tbc


	3. Procession

Chapter 3: Procession

Tauriel regarded the piece of lembas offered to the prisoner by the elf on the duty of guarding her, not feeling like eating. Rather than having to carry it, she eventually handed it over to a child from Dale the troops had passed, not even looking up when the small boy thanked her. The procession was slow. The lives lost were many, but the wounded even more. In customary fashion, the injured, those who could not walk or ride, were placed in carts that were surrounded by the legion for protection and were taken back for the caves to heal. Tauriel, not an important asset for the moment, was chained to the side of the last wagon, barely guarded. If she would've wanted to, it would've been no trouble escaping for her, but there wasn't an ounce of keenness flowing in her veins. The most she could hope for that it would still mean anything to her was to say her final goodbyes to an extraordinary dwarf, but that she had already done, albeit from a distance, watching all the lights burn for Thorin and his nephews all night long.

After that, there was nothin anybody could've done to her that would've mattered. Disoriented and despondent, she trailed after the waggon lifelessly, distractedly, not noticing that the object in front of her came to a halt till her head bounced back from the wood. They had stopped a fair number of times that day as it often happened when moving the wounded, the end of the convoy more so than the beginning and the elven maiden found herself looking back at the origin of the commotion despite herself.

In the rear, the royal bodyguard was signalling for a break, their riders closing the circle around the specially assembled cart with high tapestry fitted to both sides for the privacy of the ailing king. It wasn't a good sign, Tauriel's subconscious made her aware involuntarily, drawing her thoughts away from her lost love for once. It was the second time the halting order came from that direction. Thranduil would never show such weakness, not even in front of his own people. It was all her fault, her guilt reminded her. She needed to know how the king was. Rubbing her head where she'd bumped it, she turned to the soldier in charge of her delivery to the dungeons. "Orodeth? Is that your name, yes? Do you know how our lord Thranduil fares?"

The warrior in question hesitated, surprised by her change of attitude from complete apathy. She was a prisoner, but still way above his rank, former captain of the guard who knew his name! Impressed, he ventured, "were you not held by his tent last night? So close it would've been hard not to hear his cries when they set his ribs to place."

Tauriel tried to swallow, her throat suddenly dry. She had missed that, but maybe it was just as well. "Has he improved now?" She hoped.

Orodeth sighed fixated on the current captain of the guard, freshly out of the king's cart who was taking long strides towards them, "I doubt it."

"Unchain the prisoner," Erendit ordered and grabbed hold of her arm as soon as it was done, "a lelyalme," he commanded firmly and gruffly, dragging her faster than her numbed by chains feet would carry her.

"Where?" Tauriel inquired surprised.

"Ava quete!" The person in charge of the guard snapped, "you have caused enough problems for one century!"

And thus without an explanation Tauriel has found herself shoved behind the king's cart and left there without further ado till shortly when Melvasul pulled the curtains attached to the two side tapestries and peeked out to let her know, "Thranduil wants to speak with you. He has been calling your name for a good while." The elven maiden stared, confused. She was ready for whatever fate had in store for her, not as if it would matter to her, but the occurrence had managed to confuse her all the same. As if pulled on string, she started to climb instinctively.

The chief healer of the crown put a halting hand on her arm when she tried to haul herself up the platform, "he is well feverish, agitated and delusional, dear. I would not take everything earnestly," he whispered.

At this, Tauriel bristled, finding some things did matter after all, at least as much as to make it, her, hurt more. Her fault. She heaved herself up, weary, guided slightly to the side by the healer and pulled into a squatting position to sit by the prone form of the king. With his eyes closed, pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, expression furrowed by pain, it was clear Thranduil was worse off than she had seen him the previous day.

"Tauriel is here my lord," Melvasul reported, searching the royal's features for a reaction. Not getting one, he picked up a small cloth out of a bowl of water sitting by and stroked Thranduil's forehead with it, hoping to rouse him that way, "my lord. You have asked for Tauriel?"

"Yes," the king rasped weakly, not opening his eyes. Breathing, talking seemed to pain him, not very surprising given where his injury was. "Bring me Tauriel."

"I've come," the former captain of the guard let him know reverentially, weary about the possible cause of such summoning.

Thranduil opened his eyes slowly, trembling eyelids blinking to the world in front of him before his focus and gaze shifted to find the woman dressed in dirty green clothes. "Tauriel.." He tried.

"Sit closer young maiden," Melvasul instructed, "don't make him have to use effort."

The king's eyes were still on her as she shifted, scooting on her knees and leaning forward to hear better. "I've sent Legolas to find the son of Arathorn."

"North?" Tauriel enquired surprised once more when the king seemed to have struggled with forming the next words.

"But it's you he runs from," Thranduil nodded with emphasis, "you need to see to him not being hurt."

"My apologies my lord but if it's me he runs from," the warrior maiden began shaken by the disclosure, "I'm hardly the best person to look over him even from a distance."

Thranduil shook his head, "you're the most qualified, but that's not.." He groaned, shifting a little to get more comfortable, though the movement jostled him instead and he had to close his eyes and breathe out his nose for a while to gather some strength. Tauriel glanced at the healer, worried.

"Could I offer you some herbs to sleep my lord," Melvasul suggested.

"That's not what I meant," Thranduil continued his previous comment, ignoring the healer, "give him hope, so he can find piece on his journey of self discovery. A few words, nothing more. Ride after him before he's too far."

"Give him hope?" Tauriel gaped. Thranduil must've been delirious indeed, "but you told me not to give him hope before," she argued.

He shook his head once more, "I need to know he will come back to me Tauriel. For you, he will come when he feels ready."

"So you want me to give him false hope?" Tauriel frowned.

"No, no," Thranduil became agitated, moving too much for him own good, "I know it's too early for you but you will never be so much in love again like you were there. So why not Legolas? Somewhere down the line, even centuries perhaps?"

"Stay still please, my liege," Melvasul tried again, placing and holding the damp cloth to his patient's forehead, hoping that will keep the royal still, "the journey is bumpy enough as it is. These ribs need to be kept close together to heal."

"Centuries will not change my heritage," Tauriel endeavoured somewhat defiantly. She had never been happy that people were judged based on where they came from.

"That was before I saw what he's capable of for you," Thranduil said pained, more out of heartache than because of his wounds.

"I can't think of future mates, not now," the archer swallowed, "I'm sorry my lord."

"The king gave you an order Tauriel," Melvasul ascertained firmly, hoping to end the conversation.

"I…" Tauriel looked at Thranduil, uneasy. She had fought him on several occasions for the sake of Kili and she will not change that in his death. But looking at the ailing elves' pleading, pain filled eyes, she could not say no. "I will ride after him immediately as soon as the guards are told of my undertaking," she promised.

"Thank you," Thranduil's hand reached out for hers and clutched it, "thank you," he whispered, eyes glazy, "but remember, he needs to be uninhibited for now, free from the burdens of duty and the soul. Let him do his own thing, his future happiness depends on it. He will be a better king, a better person for it."

"I will give the order for Tauriel to be provided with a horse and provisions," Erendit said gruffly from the back, having obviously listened to the whole conversation. Just as gruffly as he has handled her before, the head of the guard pulled her to her feet by the arm, oblivious to the fact he had just forcibly pulled her hand out from Thranduil's.

"Tauriel.." The king called out once more. Irritated, Erendit had to let go of the elven maiden, so she could turn back to look at the injured leader. What has she earned all these favours with? She should've at least been kept in fetters if not worse, the faithful guard thought.

"Bear in mind that you are not banished from the realm anymore," Thranduil assured her, fully aware that if he set her free there was no guarantee she would come back or even do what she was asked. But he had to ensure Legolas had a reason to return in the future so he had to make every compromise, "you will be pardoned of treason when you return," the ruler declared as condescendingly as he could muster.

"I will so as you wish your highness," Tauriel promised to those pleading eyes that contradicted his playact tone, "please rest assured," she managed to bow before Erondit marched her out.

"Tauriel will take two bowmen and three scouts," the captain declared, barking at his subordinates, "she is to go find the prince. Horses!" He shouted.

"Thanduil never said anything about an escort," Tauriel argued.

"The king is not well enough to be consulted again," the large elf decided. "Now listen," he pulled her closer, lowering his voice, "you will bring Legolas back here as soon as you find him."

"Those weren't my orders either," the archer maintained, "ask Melvasul."

"I know what the king said," Elrondit sizzled, "but you are still not getting the gravity of the situation are you? The healers fear for him. The wound is grave, but it shouldn't affect him so. We need the prince back as he might be needed to be crowned by the time he arrives."

"You're not suggesting Thranduil's going to die? Are the healers?" Tauriel blanched, muddled. Thranduil has always been there, a constant cannot change, right?

"We don't know," Elrondit mollified at her showing care. He was in charge of protecting the king from every angle and he would do just that. "The wound's infected and he wasn't able to keep anything down since yesterday, not the medicine, not the water. I was told he is deteriorating fast. So please Tauriel, if our land or your duties, our people still mean anything to you, please hurry."

Tbc


	4. Nobody Else

Short, linking events chapter so I've decided to add it today too :)

Chapter 4: And No-one Else

Some bushes moved at the other side of the river, that was Tauriel's first indication that she may have found Legolas. Just as she anticipated, the scouts have been useless tracking the prince so all Tauriel had to do was let them follow their wrong assumptions and she was rid of them. The bowmen were heavy in their armour, but the warrior maiden jumped over tree trunks and climbed the walls of ravines easily. They were slowing her down and Legolas would not wait and they eventually had to let her go as well. A form was certainly making a track through the undergrowth, she could see the nocks and fletchings of arrows peeking out sometimes if she looked hard enough. She wouldn't go back all the way to the bridge so she just used the vines and branches to hop over, landing on a large rock that seemed stable enough to hold her above the gorge. Her skills served her habitually even if consciously rational thought was hard in her wretched state. The warrior maiden looked around, her target should've appeared down this pass coming towards her by now. Which could only meant it was really Legolas, he had noticed he was followed and anticipated the move.

"I thought my eyes were cheated by some spell. It's you. What is it? Are you alright?" The elvenprince jumped down in front of her from a tree, thrown between being angry with her for torturing him further when he had already tried to leave the heartache behind, and being concerned for her wellbeing on all levels like he always was.

"I'm sorry Legolas," Tauriel sighed. Now that she had found him the hard part would be telling him his father was gravely injured.

"Well, there's no need for that," the prince waved her off, "you cannot command your heart who to love. I wished to give you space to grieve as it would be hard for me to witness. You look terrible, you don't look like you've slept a moment and yet you're here," he studied her, uncomprehending.

"Your father.." Tauriel started.

"Did he exile you, not even let you say your goodbyes? I'm sure he wouldn't harm you, not when he knows what that would mean between us. But..you can come with me Tauriel. We don't have to have a given destination, forget my father, this land, we could go anywhere," he offered, knowing he could never deny her anything, not even if it hurt him.

Tauriel shook her head, "no, your father wants me to stay." She stalled, how is she going to blurt it out that Legolas' immortal father was possibly on his deathbed right now?

"Yes, that would make sense, away from me," Legolas reasoned, "but since when do you obey his orders? You can join me in my quest to understand and live freedom, have the power to act, speak and think as we want, seek knowledge beyond our realm in those worlds my father decides to ignore. I wish to discover who I could be if I wasn't the heir to the throne, make my own way when the only person who owns me is me. You don't need me to depict freedom, you wish it just the same."

"I don't know what I would wish," Tauried sighed, "time to think and I don't even want to think. I want to be numb, it's the only way," she shook her head in distress.

"Of course," Legolas gave. It didn't surprise him. In his heart of hearts he always knew the answer was going to be a no. She had the stubbornness of a dwarf, in a way quite fitting she fell in love with one.

"Will you ever come back?" Tauriel gazed, transfixed by his apparent enthusiasm. She of course knew he never wanted to be king but she'd always assumed he would yield eventually when the need arose. And he certainly didn't look ready today.

Legolas lifted his fantasizing eyes at her, expectant and ever hopeful that his love for Tauriel will once be reciprocated, "one day. I will come back to see if you're alright."

Tauriel nodded, making a decision. The succession of the throne was an insignificant matter comparing to his possible happiness while away, one she was sure she could never give him. Thranduil's pleading and insistent words to leave him uninhibited ringing in her ears she did what she promised Thranduil, she would do and let Legolas keep on like he'd planned, "I wanted you to know that I will always be somewhere you can find me after," she promised, holding true to the second part of her promise to her king that she will also give him an incentive to visit, not just an honest chance for self discovery. She owed the family as much as a friend. Who knows, maybe her heart will not defy her that time in the future. "Fare well Legolas, let luck be on your side and hara máriessë!" she stepped forward and embraced the prince one last time. She will have to watch her own back from now on.

Tbc


	5. Patron Saint

Chapter 5: Patron

Not feeling tiredness and hunger for the torment she went through over the last few days, Tauriel wandered to where her legs were taking her. She sighted the entrance of the caverns before she became aware that her warrior instincts have once again guided her without conscious effort. Her head jumbled, she came to a halt, wondering whether she should go in. Her escort was still probably lost in the forest so she could in all sincerity just disappear, go live on her own, pay a visit to the dwarves and a certain grave. But the fate of the king troubled her, she had to know, so with renewed and this time conscious effort, she stepped out the shadows and forward towards the pair of guards securing the north entrance.

"Gi suilon Tar, Tauriel!" The taller elf to the right greeted her, "all squaddies were alerted to escort you to an audience with our lord Thranduil when you arrive."

The address was respectful enough. "He made it home and is well then?" Tauriel hoped.

"I don't know such tidings," the footsoldier answered apologetically as he passed her on to the second row of defence. Taken from corridor to corridor and from charge to charge, she was led towards the king's private quarters till she was once again face to face with Erondit. "Where is the prince!" He hissed at her, coming close and into her personal bubble to beleaguer her.

"It wasn't the king's order to bring him here," she said offhandedly and self secure, giving a glimpse of Tauriel before grief shaped her, "but I did talk to him. Thranduil wishes to see me?"

"That he does, like some sort of saviour," Erondit rolled his eyes, "the fever must've taken his wits."

"You dare to belittler the king?" Tauriel parried, taking gratification from having the upper hand as she passed through the double doors unhindered.

"Oh child!" Melvasul stood up, visibly happy at the sight of her, "le fael you came back!"

Tauriel advanced hesitantly, not seeing Thranduil in his large, ornate bed from her angle because of the velvet hanging between the bedposts. She had only been here once or twice before to give a report, but even then the king was sitting by the dresser, not in bed. "Say you have been successful, that you can tell him he has something to wait for, to live for," the healer pressed, "we need to get his self healing powers to start working."

"Legolas told me he will come back one day?" Tauriel endeavoured, guessing that was the part of the message the old elf was referring to.

"Then let's tell him," Melvasul waved her over, "we need to calm him down."

Weary, the brown haired elf raised her eyes to the patient. Thranduil was still, deathly still, no more violent trembling and biting his lips to keep in control. Tauriel wondered about the chief healer's choice of words, to calm him down, could the king lie any more quiet. Thranduil was deathly pale as well, the only indication of him being alive was the agonised expression painted on his features even as he lay seemingly unaware. "Is he going to die?" Tauriel blurted out, stricken by the sight. Dressed in nothing but a white tunic with golden edges that opened up in the front for access to the bandages and silken, silver leggings, it was also the least dressed she'd ever seen him, giving a marked appearance of vulnerability and feebleness that gave way to a look of pronounced transcendent beauty. He will not be happy they've put him in mismatched clothes, her mind mused aimlessly.

"Let's help him though the sickness instead," Melvasul omitted to answer her question on purpose, "come here and hold his hand. He will recognise your closeness, your voice," the millennia old healer pushed her, physically taking and raising Thranduil's hand to goad her. Not understanding what good the gesture would do, Tauriel reached out hesitantly, having to hold the weight if his dried out and hot hand as it hang limp and lifeless. "Sit down," the king's loyal servant directed her, making her wonder just how was it that she the sylvan elf of lowly descent ended up sitting on the royal bed, clasping the king's hand. Now that she was close, she could see that there was some movement, tiny jerks of his head on his pillow, reminiscent of what would've been trashing if he would've had the energy for it. It was accompanied with barely audible moans as he struggled to breathe. How was she supposed to help, she couldn't understand.

"Tell him of his son," the healer heartened.

Tauriel looked up at him at a loss, but then at his expectant nod, she started, "Legolas is as brass, buoyant and confident as ever. He might need to find his own way at any case, but at least outwardly, he doesn't show being affected by my rejection. He will be fine, I'm sure. I think he just wants adventure, to see beyond our borders."

"Like you did once Thranduil," Melvasul mused, talking as if the king could hear him, directing her to continue all the same.

"You don't need to worry never to see him again," Tauriel went on, "all you have to do is get better," she claimed. The fingers in her hand tightened around her at that. You could see he was trying to stir, but then it just ended in a low keen, his other hand trembling from the effort to be raised above his belly protectively.

"Oh gods, he is in so much pain," Tauriel trembled just as much, affected and concerned. "Is there nothing we can do? Topical ointments, inhalers if he cannot be fed medicine?"

"Salve is reapplied to his wound every hour," Melvasul assured her, and I have this balsam for the pain," he handed Tauriel a small tub with a cream coloured, sticky substance inside, "I need to brew some more fresh athelas. Why don't you have a go? My healing powers are weary from overuse in any case and I would need to call another healer if you don't get it done."

Although Tauriel was an experienced healer, she wavered. Touching the king so intimately wasn't something ordinary subjects did. "Me? Where should I rub it in?"

"His belly. Under the wound and round the bellybutton, to ease the cramping," Melvasul stepped to the fire to boil some water, trusting the archer with the task he gave her, having overseen her studies in the art of restoration and remedies many years ago.

Tauriel smeared some of the balsam onto her fingertips and lifted Thranduil's tunic hesitantly. His tummy was white, shapely and unblemished, like the rest if his body. Unsure of whether her touch would hurt him, she aimed quite far from the injury to start with, by the soft hairs of his happy trail, feeling like an intruder. His skin was soft, but the muscles taut underneath, too rigid, too hard, constricting, telling of a far reaching pestilence. Tauriel concentrated on getting those muscles relaxed a bit, drawing out the bane, soothing the cramping not just with rubbing the balsam in, but also using a simple chant to channel her will to assuage his pain. She almost squawked with disbelief over her own abilities to help when she felt his stomach become softer and she sighed with relief. She must be doing something right if the king's breathing deepened and his moans became less frequent. Encouraged, the elven maiden moved to an area larger and higher with a fair amount of balsam on her fingers, rubbing in circles, daring to go deeper once checking possible reactions on his features with every move. He sighed too, his muscles slackening and he now looked like he was truly just sleeping.

"Don't stop, you're doing so well," Melvasul judged. He had possibly been standing by her side for a few minutes now. "You either have a natural born talent for healing or there's a spiritual connection between the two of you that allows for free flow of fea. Either way, I haven't made so much progress in one day as you did in quarter of an hour."

Tauriel blushed, "I do not know what to attribute the success to, but he does seem to breathe better now."

"I think you should be the one who applies all the athelas too," the chief healer decided, "and I will persist with washing him down to lower his fever. Here," he handed the woman the newly crushed and brewed remedy, "have a start at his chest where the orc bashed his chestplate in."

The warrior maiden gulped. The king's tunic was unbuttoned, she could already see the bruised area, but she was now fixated by what lay underneath, the albeit little rapid thrumming of his heart under her fingertips. His heart, his loving heart, there was no doubt about it. Thranduil loved his son, he loved his people, not wanting to spill their blood unnecessarily and by the kindness he has shown towards after Killi died, there was love in there for her too. The thought pained her, how could she hurt him, accuse him of having no love? A dizzying discovery that made her tears start to fall, onto his chest and making his tunic wet as she was working.

"Are you alright? Do you want to stop?" Melvasul asked her, concerned.

"Not if it helps him," Tauriel settled.

"In that case, could you try guide your fea towards his broken ribs? They aren't the life threatening injuries, but it would be better for the healing of his other wounds if he could breathe the curative essences in I've spurted into the air."

Tauriel nodded, smiling in absorbed battle mode, "let's throw all weaponry in then."

Tbc


	6. Reinforcements

Chapter 6: Reinforcement

Tauriel became aware of the feel of silken sheets under her and the smell of berries and woodland flowers, startling her out of a deep, dreamless sleep. None of that made sense, so she opened her eyes to find herself lying on a large, glossy bed, staring at the profile of Thranduil with his nobly chiselled nose and full, kissable lips! What no, wrong, wrong, what is she doing in the king's bed! She jumped up reeling, ending up dizzy and having to sit back down again, this time making sure it was at the edge and a fair distance from the sleeping king.

"Take it easy, Tauriel," Melvasul advised kindly , sitting in a chair by the bed, looking himself worse for wear, "you passed out and I had no vim to carry you out or call for help, my apologies. You have exhausted yourself with sleepless nights and conveying of healing magic. But you have served your king well," he smiled.

"Will he become hale?" Tauriel asked, scrutinising her former bed partner. The king remained motionless and pale, but not overly so, pained features eased to a pout, kind of cute actually.

"His fever broke," the old man confirmed, "he drank a little water and his wound has started to close. He was completely lucid for a while, asking about the losses the troops have suffered, for future agreements to be drawn up with the men of Dale. And he told me not to move you."

"The king saw me in his bed?" Tauriel cried, aghast.

Melvasul tittered. He probably would've chuckled if he'd had the energy, "most definitely," he said airily and distracted as if recalling the conversation.

"What did he say?" The archer went as far as blushing this time.

"That you are not to leave till he can convey his gratitude."

"I haven't done much," Tauriel frowned sheepishly. She could think of a fair amount of damage her actions caused and very little benefit.

"The not much you need to continue lass," Melvasul pressed, "I am here, but depleted. A fading healer isn't exactly the finest."

"You're fading?" The redhead echoed, feeling another bit of her heart disappear down into the void. There weren't many other people in court who not just maybe rated her or respected her authority, but were also kind to her.

"Another few years, don't worry about it," the most experienced healer ensured.

"Or less if you use up all your fea helping the king," Tauriel considered, "what do you need me to do?"

"Reapply the balsam first, we don't want him waking up in pain. You don't mind if I dose off here do you?"

"Not at all, I already had more than my dues," the archer assured him and set to work, sitting down at the same place she had been at her previous ministrations. Peeking up at Thranduil hoping she will not wake him, she cautiously lifted his tunic once again. If he was just a little bit less than delirious what she was doing could become very awkward. For the same reason, Tauriel didn't dare start at his pleasure trail. With a couple of fingers only, just above his navel, she gently pressed and moved a couple of fingers around, rubbing in the balm, finding relieved that his stomach was less rigid and crampy. Thranduil gave a couple of deep sighs but otherwise didn't respond so the redhead continued further, encouraged, to cover the entire area of his abdomen and leaving his lower abdomen last. Should she pull down his tights a bit? He had been cramping in that part as well previously so it was probably recommended. Tauriel set the tub of balsam down and pulled at the material with both hands at the hips. With his groin area in her direct vision she couldn't miss it. Weather aware or not, king Thranduil of Mirkwood was aroused. She reeled back as if burned and looked up to check his features, finding herself staring into the moss green, welcoming eyes of her king, a shade she had never before seen them take on, not to mention all that benevolent emotion. They looked innocent enough.

"I'm..I'm sorry, I never meant to.." Never meant to what Tauriel, arouse you? "…disturb you. I trust the balsam is helping? I will get the athelas for your ribs," she turned to stand, but was unable as it appeared his hands found hers.

"Stay and continue," Thranduil pronounced evenly and on an authoritative tone, "you haven't finished what you have started."

"I will not be put in indecent situations," the warrior maiden declared, "now that you're awake I do not think it is appropriate for me to touch certain zones of your frame."

"Are you not a healer then Tauriel? Your powers gave me life and you should be proud of that. My stomach is throbbing, please do your magic."

"Where, Your Grace?" The redhead tried to keep formal and avoid glancing at his lower regions. Instead, she pulled the covers up to his groin, making sure she wasn't looking at it anymore.

Thranduil raised his other hand and placed it just below his navel. Not as low as Tauriel would've not dared to touch, but still lower than she found comfortable caressing. Her initial hesitation however was replaced with concern as she felt his muscles tense and twitch as soon as she touched him and she became more convinced it was wrong of her to neglect the area. "Too much?" She jumped back again and asked uncertainly when Thranduil groaned when her fingers pressed deeper.

"No," Thranduil complained, "it hurts more when you stop."

"Alright, alright," Tauriel allowed, calming herself rigidly and continued with renewed efforts, more gently, more carefully, trying to be in tune with every twinge and tenderness she felt under her fingertips. Once she was absorbed in her task the chant started flowing as if by itself, springing and connecting hers with Thranduil's own, weakened magic. She found that she was enjoying this, creating more than destroying, healing more than slaying.

"Do you know anything about your ancestors Tauriel?" Thranduil's harmonious, rich voice startled her.

"How could I?" The off-the-cuff healer reacted dazed, "you yourself have more chance of knowing than me."

"There's something in your touch Tauriel, the way you apply kingsfoil, guide your life spirit, you have something that ordinary elves do not have. We need to find out your ancestry," he mumbled sleepily with his eyes closed.

"How do you plan to do that?" The redhead asked wide eyed, "I have tried in the past, there's nothing."

"You haven't tried to talk to the orcs that massacred your family."

"Talk to them?" Tauriel echoed, "I can think of a dozen other things I'd rather do to them than talk."

"Rash, pet," Thranduil smiled, "always so impulsive and reckless," he muttered, his head lolling.

"I'm not your pet," the redhead maintained, but she continued rubbing his tummy till she was sure he was deep asleep.

Tbc


	7. Pounce

Chapter 7: Pounce

"The king demands your presence," Tauriel's young servant appeared in her chambers with a stack of her cleaned clothes, "you need to get out of your bath immediately," she rushed the redhead.

"Is he well?" Tauriel fretted, taking the towels from her maid. She had not been allowed into the royal bedchambers ever since that night, not since two different healers, Angrod and Anwarunya have taken over the care of the king after Melvasul was declared too weak to cast substantial spells.

"That would be my guess, mistress. He is holding a war council," the maid helped Tauriel into her clothes quickly.

"A war council!" Tauriel exclaimed, vexed. "What happened? I would've hoped there will be peace now, we've had such heavy losses."

"They speak of a threat from the south, but I do not know what," Tari, the maid offered.

"Leave it," Tauriel refused her hair being brushed. She was dressed and decent, there was no need for further delays.

"Not that way, mistress," Tari directed when the archer took off in the direction of the great throne hall, "the king's chambers."

"Oh. Thank you," the redhead started on the correct route this time, pondering that if Thranduil was holding the council in his chambers he wasn't that well yet.

"Careful there," a dark, handsome man held out his arms to stop her from running into him as she rounded the last corner. It was Bard, now apparently leader and king of Dale.

Tauriel paused, looking him up and down, "did you get what you came for?" She eyed the large rolled up parchment in the new king's hand.

"Yes. Thranduil is highly reasonable when dealing with the matters of my people, for which I can guarantee my full cooperation dealing with the dragon."

"What dragon?" Tauriel felt the blood run cold in her veins.

"Smaug wasn't the only one," Bard, the first, rationalised as it would've been self explanatory, "this one is either angered by Smaug's death or wants to claim new territories now that he has no adversaries around here. Either way, he has decimated several villages in the south and has burned large areas of the forest. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way to collect the elf constituent of my away crew."

"Am I not part of your group?" Tauriel guessed the reason for her summoning.

"I don't think so," Bard gave, side stepping her.

"His Highness is waiting for you," the guard by the door encouraged her in. Raising her eyebrows in perplexity, Tauriel entered cautiously. Now that she was about to see the king, she was apprehensive about finding him in less than good health. Thranduil indeed was a far cry from his usual, fluid self. He was out in his antechambers, sitting on a large chair that usually served as a replacement throne while away on a campaign, but did not look well enough for the minute task of scanning through some papers that his chief advisor, Findecand was holding out for him. He was noticeably pale and was uncharacteristically leaning back on the chair. Elrodit, two other advisors, two generals and the healer Angrod was also present.

"I want these two items taken off the list," Thranduil waved a finger at something, "they came from Amon Lanc and the dwarves can have no claim over it." He was wearing a long silken, royal robe, but not adornments or a crown.

"I will endeavour to negotiate," Findecand offered, "but I have no guarantees Dain will be reasonable."

"Their losses are graver than ours are they not?" Thranduil proposed, hand going to his stomach, pretences be damned.

"Yes, my lord, far greater."

"In that case, remind them of our numbers and the new threats that loom these pastures."

"Threats?" Tauriel began, "plural? I've only heard of the dragon."

"Those disparaged should never interrupt his Grace," Elrodit held appalled.

Thranduil raised his intent gaze at Tauriel for the first time since her arrival, "yes, threats. Which is why you're here. We will leave the dragonslaying to Bard for the time being unless circumstances change. But there are small, seemingly random groups of orcs attacking solitary towndwellers or elves when out in the forest, pilfering whatever their share of the treasure was. However, I do not believe these attacks are random, I think they are orchestrated from above. There are too many, too precise, too methodical. Secondly, there's word of Dol Goldur being rebuilt and I need a scout on that. Thirdly, I have to meet the Maiar delegation tomorrow and I do not have time to deal with the other two at the moment, but you are more than capable of organising and carrying out a scout for both." Thranduil sighed, leaning on the arm of the chair as if talking that long would've exhausted him.

"I'm not sure I have the authority to command a posse?" Tauriel asked confused.

"You are captain of the guard, do as you see fit," Thranduil consented.

"Is the king well?" Elrodit questioned, mistrustful and irate.

"Bowl," the king held out his hand for the item to retch in, which the Angrod promptly provided.

"The king is perfectly well enough to make decisions about who should command his royal guard," the healer declared with poise while Thranduil kept his face in the bowl, swallowing convulsively. "May I suggest a recess in the proceedings my lord?" He leaned to place a comforting hand on the patient's shoulder.

Thranduil waved a hand approvingly, barely holding back from being violently sick till his advisors, generals and the displaced and angry Elrodit filed out. Angrod was holding onto the king by the end as throwing up seemed to have weakened Thranduil and he slumped forwards. "Tauriel, I need you to help me get him into bed," the healer appealed to her, seeing that she had stayed behind even though everyone was ordered out. "Get his other arm," he instructed.

"What's wrong with him?" Tauriel complied, worried.

"The infection lingers in his stomach," Angrod explained, "but he is getting better. Though perhaps not as well as holding court," he directed his words admonishingly towards the king. "Thank you for your help," the promoted chief healer extended after they've deposited the docile and wearied patient into his bed, "he needs rest."

"I need a stomach massage," Thranduil voiced, sounding pained.

"Of course my lord," Angrod moved.

"Not from you," Thranduil stated, looking at him squarely.

"I think he means me," Tauriel ventured and the king smiled.

Angrod looked from one to the other, mystified. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" He questioned the warrior maiden.

"I have some experience," Tauriel assured him with a straight face, even though she found the situation rather amusing.

"Call me when you need me," Angrod retreated, closing the door behind him, "I will be in the antechamber."

"You seem to be putting many folks out of their positions today," Thranduil commented, entertained. "Did you see his face?"

Tauriel couldn't help but smirk at that, sharing the smile. "Do you even need a massage or you just wanted to do that to mess with your subjects?" She bickered.

"Tauriel if you please," he moved to unbutton his garbs, "nobody has the same nimble, rhythmic fingers as you do," he revealed a smooth, white abdomen that showed only a red scar at his side and a couple of retreating bruises by the ribs.

"Are you healing well or is that glamour?" She couldn't help but ask.

"What would be the point to deluding you?"

Tauriel nodded, "I should ask Angrod back for the balsam."

"Forget the balsam. It was always your hands, not some dubious concoction," Thranduil waved her off.

"Alright, I'm going to try to do this right," Tauriel placed a hand across his belly, rubbing gently horizontally for the time being, "how does your stomach feel just now? How does it feel these days? I'm kind of out of the know."

"Queasy and uncomfortable to both."

"How uncomfortable?"

Thranduil pursed his lips, "do you have to know everything? I'm the king and it's none of your concern."

"What would be the point to you deluding me?" Tauriel gave roguishly.

Thranduil looked at her long and hard, then broke eye contact. If Tauriel didn't know any better she would've said that was a shy gesture. "Varying degrees. Sometimes very uncomfortable, that's what makes me heave."

"Do your healers even know this?" Tauriel rolled his eyes at his gullible blink. "That's what I thought. How do you intend them helping you if you don't tell them what's wrong?"

"It does not matter," he established firmly, "because none of what they've done mattered so far. My natural healing was at work. And your hands."

"You should give your people more credit than that," Tauriel commented, widening the circle of rubs. His muscles were noticeably tense, with a tender spot just under his navel as before, so she wanted to give her best. She knew what helped now, what made him relax, how she could channel her will effectively just through the thought of hating to see him suffer, what to avoid not to make him wince. Including the area she couldn't previously touch because of the open wound, she got absorbed into making him feel better and his belly pliant.

"How are you Tauriel?"

The addressed froze, her fingers pressing his left side but seizing to move for a moment. "I try to avoid everything that reminds me of him so if you please, I would thank you if you didn't bring it up."

Thranduil nodded, "that is the most effective way of keeping the pain at bay," he agreed, "but I want you to know that if any time in the future you need to talk about it or wet my clothes with tears, I'm accessible."

Tauriel looked up at him, stricken, "I'm so sorry my lord. I cried on your chest and didn't even notice you were gravely injured."

"Not 'my lord', not when it's just us. And my actions are my own, with all their consequences. I don't stand for blaming others for my actions. Now go young woman, I wish to sleep."

"Has your stomach settled?"

"As much as it can," the patient sighed, "but it will do. And Tauriel, tomorrow you will start your duties and I want you to report back to me personally every night after a patrol, no matter how late it is. Understood?"

"Yes, Thranduil," Tauriel used the name brazenly after she was allowed to, but he didn't expect anything less from her. "Anything else I can help you with?" She offered, standing nevertheless.

"Bedcovers," he requested. They were not far off his reach but he preferred if his ribs moved as little as possible just yet.

It should've been a simple enough task, yet for the second time in just a few days, it got her in close range with that obvious bulge in his pants and she didn't know what to think of it. Legolas often got like that around her but now his father too? It was best to bid good night as soon as possible.

Tbc


	8. Tinker

Chapter 8: Tinker

"Rather late is it not?" Angrod stopped Tauriel by the king's bedroom door.

"His Grace was adamant I report back tonight," she insisted.

"Be my guest," Angrod shrugged, getting out the way, "but I must warn you, he is rather irritable and bad tempered today."

"It won't be the first time, it won't be the last," the captain declared, determined to brave the storms of a grouchy king. "My lord?" She tried to attract his attention, not quite willing to call him Thranduil in case it darkened his mood.

The royal looked up from the papers he had been studying lying back on pillows on his bed, but with one hand plainly wrapped around his stomach for comfort. "What took you so long!" He snapped, "I had some suspicions you would not come back."

"I can confirm that the necromancer has taken residence at Dol Goldur," Tauriel reported, "but I had to decapitate a few uruks before I got to the truth and thus it took a while. But why would I not come back?"

"One never knows with you Tauriel. I've got more work for you tonight if you're not too worn-out."

"But of course. I will try to ease the cramping." She guessed, indicating the position of his arm across his stomach.

"I meant after you've done that," Thranduil let himself slide down on the pillows while the redhead sat by him. "the other patrol captured some orcs today. They are in the dungeons. I need them interrogated."

"You keep orcs in the dungeons?" Tauriel asked perplexed. They were usually killed on sight as they were too dangerous to be imprisoned.

"I ordered every orc to be interrogated before they are killed," Thranduil confirmed.

"Is it so important to know whether they were organised into attack? I mean, they probably would be at any case," the captain argued, starting to unbutton his tunic expertly to reveal inviting skin.

Thranduil shook his head, "every orc will be questioned on their whereabouts and reasons if they happened to be on the plateau of Hirwah roundabout the year 2400."

The archer stared, astonished. "It cannot be that important to find my parents' killers. Not in a way that puts lives at risk here."

"That is why such a decision falls to a king," Thranduil assured.

Tauriel shook her head, teary eyed. Although she had barely started to rub his belly, her concentration was completely broken, "why do you need to know about them? What does it matter?" She neither wanted to think about those losses or put more lives at risk.

"I'm doing it because I'd like to see you pleased."

"You mean you want Legolas to be happy and your subjects to accept a choice of his that otherwise might not be straightforward."

"No. I'm doing it because I'd like to see you contented," Thranduil insisted. "You said you didn't want to think about future mates. But with you mentioning Legolas, does that mean do you think him as a possibility now?"

Tauriel sighed, "is it possible to love twice?"

"Yes, it is. It's rare, but it happens."

The archer shrugged, "if that is both my prince's and my king's wish, I will endeavour to make Legolas happy one day." Once the pain numbed somewhat, it will surely not matter who she was with. She loved Kili, nothing can change that.

"Then I shall endeavour to find out where you come from," Thranduil threw his head back onto his pillows, sounding more resigned than pleased. "You are so beautiful, clever, brazen, spirited, one of a kind. You deserve happiness."

"So are many others among your people," Tauriel ventured, seeing as he was in such a giving mood.

"Don't forget that my stomach hurts," the king stared at the ceiling, conversation over as far as he was concerned.

"Of course Thranduil," the redhead set to work.

Tbc


	9. Domestics

Chapter 9: Domesticated

It had become a nice little custom they had going over the next few weeks, Tauriel would come late at night, every night, to report so to speak, tell him of her endeavours for the day and of course give him a habitual and expected belly rub whether he needed it or not. They would talk, sometimes for a long time, about what she saw and what maybe needed taken care of in his kingdom. She was his eyes and ears and she was his nurse. He was her companion, the one who kept her mind busy and from straying into sadness. She did worry about Thranduil frequently however as his recovery was taking a long time. Even on days when his stomach was calm, the maids would complain he barely touched any food, he had dizzy spells and needed to be supported back to his rooms from his throne on one occasion, would wake in sweat and tremors and still occasionally retch. It didn't make sense to Tauriel, not unless his fea was fading too. But Thranduil wasn't old, not by elf standards and while Tauriel didn't know exactly how old the king was, it didn't seem likely he was much older than five thousand. Could he have tired of living already? Could it be heartache that would make him want to part with this world? Not being on good terms with any other healers, Tauriel could only think of Melvasul to ask. She has found him by the Forest River behind the Elvenking's Halls, sitting by the riverbed, gazing out at the mountains, stroking his grey beard. Old elves' time perception was relative, they could sit still and do the same thing for days, but the young elf hoped she could shake him out the reverie.

"I came to talk to you about Thranduil," Tauriel stated, touching the elder lightly on the shoulder.

Melvasul turned slowly, blinking several times before recognition set in, "what brings you to these quiet pastures child?"

"I wanted to ask you about Thranduil," she repeated assuming the healer never heard her, "his stomach still ails him. How is that possible?"

"Oh, Thrandy was always a fussy infant, a fussy eater, easy to knock over. Oropher would be happy to know his son in fact became a great warrior king."

"Thrandy?" Tauriel raised her eyebrows. As much as it was nice to hear snippets from Thranduil's childhood, it didn't help with the current situation. Once Melvasul was out of the bounds of the court, his mind was drifting quickly by the sound of it. "Please concentrate. Year 2941? I need to know what I could do to help him. Is he fading and if so, is it at a stage where it could be revocable?"

"Thranduil fading? Child, where did you get that gobbledygook? I can sense him all the way out here, shining bright and strong."

"Are you sure?"

"I have helped bring him into this world. I was there at the birth of his mother also. So accept as true that I can always feel him."

"But he's not strong," Tauriel argued, "he can barely leave his rooms."

"Is that so?" The ex chief healer looked back towards the Halls, rapt as if focusing on something invisible. "Ah, temporary," Melvasul waved, "I'd suggest the reason for his healing to has slowed down would be his fea being occupied with other matters. Or maybe not," the healer frowned, then started laughing.

"What is it?" Tauriel asked impatiently.

"Or perhaps he intentionally slowed down his healing." Melvasul grinned.

"Why would he do that?" The redhead narrowed her eyes, confused.

"Isn't it obvious?" The old elf smiled.

"No," Tauriel blinked, refusing to believe it, "you cannot tell me the proud king of the Mirkwood elves is insisting on letting himself be seen as weak because he wants a stomach rub from me every night."

"Stanger things have happened," Melvasul shrugged, "but it's possible he's doing it subconsciously," the healer allowed, "and at the beginning, he did really truly need it."

"This is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard!" Tauriel fumed, "I'll show him what kind of rub I'm going to give him next!" She turned on her heels, ready to march off only to bump into her first lieutenant, Inglorian: "Excuse me, Captain for interrupting your rest, but scouts reported a large group of trolls entering at the passage on the Grey Mountain. They have already pilfered through some crops of lissuin and oiolairë and the locals are asking for backup. I brought your quiver."

"Thank you, Inglorian," his captain took the item, "I feel like shooting something anyway."

"Tauriel," Melvasul called out to her as she jumped up a rock to follow her subordinate. The young warrior turned irritably. "A word please, in private," the former healer beaconed her insistently, "you need to hear this."

The archer hesitated. On one hand, the matter of the trolls could turn out to be urgent and she didn't want to hear one more word to do with Thranduil at the moment, but on the other hand, this was the kindhearted and genteel Melvasul, probably during one of his very last lucid moments before he was lost inside his own mind and faded to nothingness. "Give us one moment Inglorian," she sent her second-in-command ahead and hopped down to join the elder under the quenya tree he was sitting under by the river.

"Come sit with me," the older encouraged and Tauriel wavered once more. Did she have time for this? But then again, some of what Melvasul had said didn't make sense before and he would probably be more likely to speak truth if she indulged him. It was heartbreaking to see a grand mind like his choosing to depart from the world they knew. In the end, she sat, copying his pose of crossing her legs under her.

"You child, are the key," Melvasul started, "you need to understand how important your actions could be. I already saw you had natural talent when you first came to learn about healing and I know you applied it manifold when your underlings got injured. But never did I imagine you would have the ability to connect your fea with a king's fea. Yet that isn't your greatest asset. Thranduil has not been happy for many centuries, too wound up in the past, trying to forget but at the same time is unable to. I didn't think the boy would let the pain go but then I saw the way Thrandy looks at you, the way he smiles when we talk about you, the way he changes his ways to adapt to your presence in his life and yes, the way he might even employ a little deceit to be able to spend time with you, a lowly silvan elf. If it hasn't been apparent to you, child, Thranduil is in love with you. His heart sings and dances, for the first time since Ancalime."

"It doesn't give him the right to play nurse with me, to appeal at my sympathy, mislead me, fool around with my own crumbly heart!" Tauriel objected, standing up.

"I'm quite sure he was intending none of those damaging deeds you accuse him of. Be gentle on him, Tauriel."

"I will be as gentle on him as he deserves!" Tauriel ended the conversation, making her way up from the riverbed.

"That's all I ask, dear," Melvasul mumbled quietly at the empty space in front of him.

Tbc


	10. Delays

Chapter 10: Delayed

Thranduil strode up and down his living quarters, his stomach a bunch of nerves. The body part was making it clear it was missing Tauriel, but the rest of him was just as nervous. She never stayed so long out on patrol or if she did, she would send word of the circumstances. The ruler tried to calm himself, ruminating, reading, lying down to force some sleep, rubbing his own stomach for comfort, but then gave up, knowing in his heart of hearts he will not rest till there's an explanation for the girl's disappearance. So when at dawn Elrondit came to report that one of Tauriel's aides was found dead in the forest, Thranduil gave immediate orders to have his horse ready and a dozen guards to shadow.

Angrod was woken from his slumber by a fussing Elrondit and was just about able to intercept his patient and king as he mounted a white mare, imposing, but pale in comparison to the elk that died in the battle. "My Lord!" He held on to the bridle of the animal, "I do not consider a good idea for you to ride, the strain would surely upset your delicate stomach."

"What do you know?" Thranduil urged his horse to turn.

"Sire, I would like you to at least take some of these potions with you," the scholar rummaged in his bag to produce a few bottles. If not for you, it might come in useful for someone on the endeavor," he placed them into the pouch on the saddle.

Following the messenger to the dead body of the slain elf, it was determined in the now bright morning light that the fatal injuries came from the hand of an orc. A few other warriors were found in a similar condition nearby and then finally a decapitated orc as well. Thranduil regrouped his men, covering a larger search area, but that still didn't bring much more success than another few dead bodies, elf and orc alike, and a couple of small scuffles with orcs found wounded, but alive. The resulting dread was a sickening feeling that had nothing to do with his stomach.

"Darkness is upon us," Elrodit approached the overwhelmed king, "the men are tired and hungry. Perhaps we should renew efforts with fresh blood tomorrow?"

Thranduil's head snapped up, feeling betrayed, "I will not rest till Tauriel is found and I expect my soldiers to do the same!" He ordered.

"I understand my lord, it's just that all of us are concerned for your safety. You have recently been very unwell and yet you have not rested nor eaten anything since we rode out at dawn."

Thranduil rolled his eyes and reached into the knapsack hanging on the saddle to take a piece of honey lembas he was furnished with as part of his provisions and stuck a large bit of it into his mouth, swallowing it almost completely whole, without chewing. "Happy?" He scoffed, feeling the waybread sink like a rock in his stomach uncomfortably. Elrodit sometimes took his duties of safeguarding the king way too literally, but his brazenness did qualify him for the job the same way as it has been with Tauriel. You had to talk back to a stubborn king to keep him safe.

"Tauriel's arrows!" One of the sentries came back with the items in his hands, "I got them out the flank of a goblin two hundred yards north!"

"Gather the troops, we are scanning this area three hundred yards every which way!" Thranduil marched his horse off in the direction the arrows were found, leaving Elrodit to sort out the details. That was what he was there for after all. It was due to this that it was the king who found her. Sitting on the ground stiffly over the body of Inglorian, her long hair covering most of her face but still making it visible she was crying. She didn't look very much different than how he'd found her after the battle of the five armies, but perhaps more apathetic and frozen and less outwardly emotional.

Thranduil dismounted, relieved. She was alive, in whatever condition it will not matter long term. He advanced slowly and reverently, so as to not to startle her and yet she knew he was there. "It was a trap." Her voice sounded monotone and lifeless, "the whole thing with the trolls was a trap. They wanted the guard out here so they can take out the best. I couldn't save him Thranduil. He was my second in command and he died for me and no amount of my fighting skills, nor any of my fea I endeavored to give him could save him," she breathed, hyperventilating.

"It won't always be like this Tauriel," the king approached, kneeling by her once more and she needed no encouragement this time to take the offered consolation and throw herself in his comforting arms. With no interruptions due to injury on this occasion, she sobbed, her pain feeling like a heavy, swarming cloud that encompassed both their forms. Tauriel wondered what right did she have to feel better like his embrace soothed her. People were still dead but with her grief shared and understood, the burden wasn't crushing her as much.

"My Lord?" Elrodit dared to interrupt the moment, having closed up behind him with half a dozen other stupefied members of their company. What was the king doing with that ordinary elf?

"Leave us!" Thranduil shifted the crying woman in his arms to allow his fierce expression to be seen as he gave orders, "set up encampment where we were given word of the arrows but leave some blankets, water and a tent for us here."

"Would you like us to set up your tent?" Elrodit offered.

"No. Just depart straightaway," the warrior king shook his head, "and leave a smaller tent, not the stately one."

"I beg your indulgence Your Highness but the dangers…"

"The enemy is slain, there's no danger. Now go," Thranduil gave sternly, yet never stopping stroking Tauriel's hair and face with a gentle, comforting hand. He only kissed the top of her head when everyone was out of sight.

tbc


	11. Kindle

Chapter 11: Kindle

Tauriel woke warm and comfortable, her awareness not mindful of recent grievances and tribulations over the sense of comfort and protection her body was conveying. Her vision came next, the side of a white tent, the silkenness of the king's robe covering her form, the feel of blankets under her legs as opposed to the barren ground and the softness of a silky-smooth, somewhat wet shirt at the side of her face, with the sound of thrumming in her ears. She was still lying in the arms of her king and yet somehow he had managed to draw up the tent, set a warm fire and posit themselves on a comfortable cot while she lay exhausted by overused emotions. Tauriel stirred to look up at his face, his beautiful, sculpted, regal features, eyelashes strikingly fine-looking against his alabaster skin as he slept. She was supposed to be angry with him for deluding her and making her worry over him for no good reason, she remembered, but it felt like a distant past. "Thrandy…" She breathed. Her Thrandy who came to rescue and if not then to comfort her.

Thranduil's eyes blinked open and his features organized into a frown, "did you just call me Thrandy?"

"I am so sorry," Tauriel drew back, "I meant no disrespect."

"No, it's all right," he sank his fingers into her hair, fingering the locks, "it's just..I haven't heard that for a while."

"Did Ancalime call you Thrandy?" Tauriel inquired in her normal bold fashion.

Thranduil's breathing stopped for a moment and his face darkened, "where did you hear that name?"

"You talk to her when you're delirious. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought her up. I guess the pain doesn't get much easier with time, does it?"

"In some ways, no, but in others you can begin to appreciate life."

"Like the smell of campfire? You picked culumalda for fire wood," she smiled, "my favourite."

"So you're feeling better?" Thranduil sounded glad.

"Yes, thank you. How are you feeling?" Dare you to lie to me. "Did the journey not aggravate your illness? I still can't believe you came for me."

"No, I'm well. Just a little bit nauseous and crampy, but no more than usual."

Ah, so that was the name of the game. Tummy rubs instead of admitting he was in love with her. Tauriel decided she would play, placing a hand tentatively on his belly and sliding her fingers under his shirt. She started the massage in a customary way enough, tender and mindful round his navel, but she was leaning closer, advancing on him till she was almost in the position he woke up in, with her staring at him inches apart. Customary bulges aside, she had him relaxed, right where she wanted him to be when she angled the heel of her palm differently and pressed it down as hard as she could on the spot she knew hurt him most in the past. "I know this is a game and I do not like being played or being anybody's toy," she declared.

"What?" Thranduil panted, paling.

"Belly rubs. It is your way of spending time with me unobstructed."

"I might have overplayed it a little.." the older elf admitted. He moved his hands over the point the maiden had assaulted, looking rather sweaty and pale all of a sudden, neither of which Tauriel thought to be possible to be acted. "Oh sweet Corellon, I have hurt you!" She panicked. Not daring to touch his stomach again, she leaned in instead and kissed him hard, impromptu and all over the place, desperate to prove herself.

Thranduil's lips opened and he relaxed a little at first, hesitant and surprised and mystified, but he got to his senses soon enough to push her away, "we can't. What about Legolas?"

"I will never love Legolas, you and me both know that," she sat back, sounding serious, "and what's more, he knows that, that's why he left. But you, I could love you."

"But you don't love me yet." Thranduil half stated, half asked, sounding beleaguered.

"No. Which is why it would be safe for you to take advantage of that," she pointed at his inflated groins, poking it through the fabric.

"You're such a menace, you know that?" He grabbed her hand hovering over his privates and made her press down there and up and down suggestively.

"Don't tell me it's just a rub you want Thrandy," she mocked. "Well, at least it's in a different place."

"Don't tease me cause I will devour you!" He put his hand on turn between her legs, "you know how long I've waited for you to say those words?"

"What words?" Tauriel asked confused, fingering the shape of his penis.

"That you are free. That you reserve no right to choose my son one day," he winced guiltily, "that he can have no claim over you," he took a strand of her hair and pushed it to the side so he can kiss her, deep and fervent, pulling her up on top of him, his manhood straining desperately to reach her. "I on the other hand, are going to claim you as mine."

Tbc


	12. Moniker

Chapter 12: Moniker

Judicial matters always took a long time, not to mention they bored Thranduil to death. Any more days like this and he would think about considering fading away. Defending the land, making it safe for his subjects, making sure trade relations were kept up to ensure a good life for Mirkwood elves, building bridges and passages, warranting that every subject could use and develop their magic to the best of their abilities, domestic welfare, that was one thing, but listening to quarrelsome citizens bringing their petty matters for the king to decide over was a whole other kind of animal. Surely he could delegate the responsibility over to his advisors and for good? So instead of deciding whether a painting should belong to the person who has used the brush to make it, or the person who came up with the artistic concept to the very last color, Thranduil was contemplating how he should set up a lawful and official system that was still fair and took care of matters in order of importance. Any interruptions welcome, he already smiled to himself when Tauriel burst into his royal Halls.

"Thrandy!" Tauriel was approaching the throne with considerable speed, not minding the scandalized gasps coming from the king's advisors and the common subjects alike over her obvious and great insolence addressing her king in such a manner, "how do you imagine we should make arrows as precise as we're used to if sitka spruce is not to be traded for anymore!" She fulminated. Two guards moved slightly forward, ready to remove her from the situation and dole out punishment matching the crime. Most likely dungeons or lashing.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows slightly, but otherwise gave no indication of being affected. He slowly raised himself from his throne, chin high as he brought his eyes over the gathering of people at the feet of his throne, "elves. Audience will resume shortly. Leave us, I have other matters to attend to," he nodded at Tauriel, "and I need no guards to sentry," he indicated his wish for his sentries to go too. Then he waited before everyone started to move before answering the woman, "sitka spruce is not a natural occurrence in our woods, we rely on trade with men to get it and I think we should aim to become and remain fully self sufficient in the case of hostilities with foreign species. There's ramin and lairelosse that can be used for example."

"Lairelosse only becomes strong enough for arrows in the summer, then mollifies again the rest of the year," Tauriel rolled her eyes, "ramin is not uniform enough. Allegheny is not durable, ash and chundoo is too heavy, laurinque is so fragrant your enemy will see you coming a mile, should I continue? You want us to be our best, we need sitka spruce. Legolas would tell you just the same."

"Legolas would not march into my halls in this manner," Thranduil sighed, "and kick my royal practices and customs aside without care. What should I do with you now, huh? Nobles and hoi polloi both saw your audacity."

"Allow trade of sitka spruce for one," Tauriel stood her ground.

"Oh for Cuivienyarna's sakes! We will establish a route with Bard, but only with them, understood? I want our fletchers to start perfecting other choices at the same time as well. But Tauriel, you cannot strut in here and demand things from your king."

"I'm not sure I can bother with appearances when everyone knows I share your bed and they have known for weeks."

"They know you're my concubine yes, but since when do concubines decide what a king does and doesn't? Your position doesn't allow for such freedom."

"My position," Tauriel repeated, fractious. "Just a lowly silvan elf after all when it comes right down to it."

"Come up here Tauriel," Thranduil said softly, resigned. He gave an encouraging nod as well at his lover's disenchanted face.

"I'm not in the mood to rub it all better Thranduil," she objected, but started climbing up the stairs to his throne nevertheless.

"And I'm not in the mood to throw you in the dungeons on crumbs of lembas and water for a week. I prefer to make love to you in bed as opposed to stone and grates," he reached out to pull her up the last couple of steps and crush her against himself. Close, he marveled at her lovely face, lively eyes and inviting, full lips. Having her so near it was hard not to try to breathe her in, consume her, make her his and one with him. His breath hitching, he kissed her, savoring those lips he always found hard to part from. His hands encircled her, his staff making a dive down the steps without anyone holding onto it, his royal, long robes becoming a nuisance as a hindrance between him as his prize. He much preferred the privacy of his rooms for kisses, skin on skin, her delicate, expert touch. Hence Thranduil turned her around and pushed her to sit in his throne, his lips parting last from her but still lingering close, breaths mingling, "the only way I can justify not punishing you is if your position changes. Silvan elf or not, I have the authority to ignore that if I want to. Tauriel, please be my queen."

The younger elf's eyes snapped up to his, her desire to have a naked king on the throne momentarily forgotten. She searched his features first even though she would've guessed Thranduil would not jest about such matters. "No. I will not," she stood to storm out the same way she came leaving a taken aback and reeling king behind.

Tbc


	13. Damsel

Chapter 13: Damsel

"Mistress," Tari, the maid called as she stepped into the quarters Tauriel hadn't used for the last month, having spent all her free time with Thranduil. "There you are! The king's orders were for you to present your patrol report every night to him in person. He is wanting that account straightaway!"

"Truly? Is that what he really wants?" Tauriel scoffed sarcastically.

"Lovers' spat?" Tari offered sympathetically.

"I can't give him what he really wants," the redhead brooded, "I'm not even sure I should be captain of his guard anymore."

"Now, now, there's no need for rash decisions right at this time," the older woman ventured. "The whole court talks of your immeasurable insolence this morning. Whatever our king did to you in private, everyone is certain you were let away with it very lightly."

"That's the predicament, Tari. He didn't punish me at all, he asked me to be his wife instead."

The maid gasped, bringing a hand over her mouth, "oh how unexpected and wonderful! I would be grateful to serve you as my queen as well if you'd take me with you," Tari knelt.

"What are you doing!" Tauriel stepped closer, "stand up instantly! I'm not the queen, nor can I be."

"You didn't dare to reject the king, did you?" The older elf appeared horrified.

"He can be so insufferable!"

"But mistress!" Tari gaped, "you need to be quiet when you say such thing or better, not say them all," she whispered.

Tauriel shrugged. "Besides, it wouldn't look good if he married someone of my standing."

"Oh don't you worry your pretty head about that dear, if I may. Our lord Thranduil is adored and respected as noble king all across the land. Nobody would oppose his choice."

"Perhaps," Tauriel allowed, "but I still can't give him what he wants because I don't love him."

"Did he ask you for your love?"

"No, but.."

"Thenceforth you can give him what he desires, your hand in marriage. But if I was you, I would purposefully try to go down a path that could lead me to be able to love him as…" Tari looked towards the door which was rattled forcefully. "Arrange your hair mistress, that could be him," she advised before opening the door, "this is so exciting!" She whirled.

"Tauriel?" Angrod questioned on entry, "I was called to tend to the king for his indisposition," the healer started when his eyes found the younger elf, "and he on turn sent me to attain your healing hands." He shrugged.

"You and I both know that's a load of hogwash," Tauriel rolled her eyes, "his injuires healed a long time ago."

"Hogwash yes and no," Angrod imparted, "I have been entrusted with the king's wellbeing after Melvasul's unfortunate decision and I have had to learn since that for whatever reason the king's wellbeing largely depends on you." He looked back at the commotion behind him distractedly where several members of the guard also marched in.

"I am so very sorry," Feanor, the new second in command of the guard started, "but we were given orders to escort you to the dungeons if you refuse to report to the king for briefings."

Cornering and avoiding the soldiers, a girl barely old enough to start serving at court pushed forward, setting as big of a bunch of flowers down on Tauriel's table as she could carry, "I was told culumalda was your favourite? This is as much there is on the immediate grounds of the caves."

Tauriel looked from one to the other, not sure whether she could laugh or cry, "you're joking, right? Thranduil maybe should revisit some lessons in love, for example that it can't be forced."

"So I take it you refuse to report to your king?" Feanor winced.

"It's alright," Tauriel held her hands out for shackles, "just do what you need to do."

tbc


	14. Jaunt

Chapter 14: Jaunt

Tauriel tried to remember the rota the prison guards were supposed to work by. If her calculations were right, a guardsman called Amras was supposed to come next, notorious for his distractibility, which meant she will have no problems engaging him in conversation at close quarters enough to be able to steal the appropriate keys for an escape, then she could breakout similarly to the dwarves. She feigned indifference of course when Amras ambled in with her rations, proving she remembered the schedule and was just about to ask him about his growing family when she noticed the blonde hair and trailing cape behind him and Thranduil stepped into her cell, sidestepping and dismissing the sentinel when the door was open. "I came to reclaim something of mine."

Tauriel stood angrily, stepped to the king and without further ado, slapped him on the face hard, "you can do with me whatever you want, but nor me or my freedom will be violated. I'd die first."

Thranduil turned away towards the side, bringing the hand up to touch his face but then not quite doing it. The dragonmade scars have long healed as much as they ever would, but being struck there wasn't exactly on his priorities list. The illusion flickered a couple of times before he could take grasp of it. "You have opposed me, disrespected me, disobeyed my orders and threatened my life before and yet you're neither dead nor banished. Don't you think I would've punished you by now if I would've wanted to? Nevertheless you should not test my patience. Oppose me once more in public and I will have no choice but to make an example out of you," he declared on his best authoritative voice that he knew worked largely on everyone but Tauriel.

The redhead crossed her arms in front of herself, "what do you want?"

"For everything to go back as it was. Forget what I said earlier, you don't need to marry me. I wasn't thinking, it's too early for you to make such moves. Just come back, the privacy of our nights, that's all I want. Just you and me, a lusting fellow and his mate, a woman and her lover, sharing the naked truth as the only way you know how to have it. Is that too much to ask? And a little respect when we are amongst others of course," he side rolled his eyes tentative-jestingly.

"Or else you'll throw me in the dungeons or worse?" Tauriel provoked.

Thranduil sighed, "see with your heart if not with your eyes Tauriel! There's only one step further I can go and that is admitting that I love you, that I can't think of how to live without you. You have changed me in ways I never thought possible. You have ruined me to the point I no longer care how others view me and think of me. You can't ask for more because you have me, all of me," he put a hand on his heart and bowed his head.

"And yet you will never think of me as your equal, it matters to you where I come from. You're still interrogating the orcs."

"Say no more! I have offered you to become my equal, what else could you want?" The king rumbled irritably.

"To be free, not to be your playtoy. Let me go Thranduil. You can banish me for appearances or simply let me leave. I wish to start over, I wish to forget."

"You are serious," Thranduil stepped back, paling. He had to digest that for a bit before anger erupted, "but I don't believe your reasons, that's not it," he argued feeling like he had been kicked. He shook his head in disbelief. First Legolas and now Tauriel? They were similar in that respect, he couldn't order them to stay, "I know carcaroths and draugluins cannot be tamed. Nonetheless please if you're departing at least have the decency to tell me or at least admit to yourself the real reason!" He swallowed, sudden onslaught of emotions making him sick to his stomach.

The redhead bit her bottom lip, feeling for him as much as she felt the sorrow herself. "Alright, you're right," she whispered, "there's a part of me that can't bear it, that finds it too much, that can't take it, I couldn't love again, it hurts too much," she shook her head, "and there's also a part of me that fears I will not love you enough, though they both tell me one thing, that I need to be unbound and uninhibited to find the path that's right for me. I've been thinking about it for a while. It wasn't just what happened today. I don't belong in court, I never did and I need to go before it will also hurt you too much to see me depart." She said determined.

"It's too late for that." Thranduil declared gravely.

"Don't do that please," the woman frowned, "don't fool yourself, it's not real, not yet." She claimed.

Thranduil closed his eyes, breathing deep before he got himself together enough for an answer and put his royal face on, "perhaps for you. But as you wish," he said calmly, his insides roiling below the surface. "You have made your mind up and I'm not foolish enough to think I can change your choice. You wouldn't be the woman I fell in love with otherwise," he nodded to underline his words and reached out a hand to cup her face, happy she let him for a moment, "my little fell beast, my perfect rebel, the bird that will never be happy in the cage, where will you go?" He sighed, eyes stinging. At least he's keeping his royal dignity not to beg her.

"It defeats the purpose if I told you," Tauriel argued, "besides I do not know where."

Thranduil nodded, disappointed that he could not get as much of an answer out of her, "I will set you free, I promise. Tomorrow you're free to go. But tonight, we have," he moved tentatively, questioningly, to take her hand in his, hoping she has calmed down enough not to resist him.

Tauriel didn't need to contemplate that, "tonight I shall stay with you," she agreed, embracing him. She couldn't change who she was, but she couldn't stand not comforting him for the pain she had caused him herself. So she wrapped her arms around his chest and rested her head on it, squeezing tightly and closing her eyes, breathing his scent in. There could be no harm in that.

Thranduil let out a sigh, wishing they could stay in that position forever, "I will miss you," he mumbled softly, his breath tickling her forehead.

"I will miss you too," Tauriel admitted to which Thranduil smiled sadly and kissed the top of her head before moving to lift her up into his arms to carry her out the cell, out the dungeons and into his bed, not minding guards and servants who almost fell over themselves pretending not to see.

Tbc


	15. Farewell

Chapter 15: Farewell

The sun was high up in the sky as much as it truly brightened even the underground chambers of the king through the openings high up at the side. His minions have already knocked several times to wake up the king or ask for orders on matters of the court and were sent away by Thranduil each time with an aggravated yell without him leaving the security of his bed and the maiden wrapped around him.

Nestling together, Tauriel was lying her head on his chest, his long arms around her body, keeping her close, encasing her like a smooth, cosy wrap. She looked absolutely gorgeous with just a white bed sheet pulled over her legs, while her bare stomach, arms, back, neck, and shoulders gleamed in the light assaulting the privacy of their hideout, the fragrance of their lovemaking lingering through the air. He rested his head on hers, her hair teasing his side, while Tauriel was drawing lazy circles lightly with tickling fingers on his abs, round his navel and occasionally venturing down the marked line of his happy trail, marked by his sometimes sharp intake of breath when she done so and a tightening of his arms around her. She wasn't doing it because he physically needed the belly rub, but because it was both their comfort place, a gesture they would always go back to when they had a pronounced need to feel the connection between them, or simply a pleasurable habit other times, relishing the feel of his naked skin against hers. Many times they would go to sleep like this, but time had been too precious to waste it with sleep that last night. "You know you do need to meet the Huorn delegation today otherwise they will think something is wrong. I wouldn't like to be responsible for a diplomatic incident."

"There is something wrong," Thranduil declared and his muscles tightened under her palm, "if I go now you will not be in my bed anymore when I return."

"That was the plan. Delaying this isn't going to make it any easier. I shall help you get dressed," Tauriel offered, sitting up, but with her hand still resting intimately on his stomach.

"So I'm kicked out my own rooms," the king sighed, his distracted mind drinking in the sight of how her hair hugged her naked torso. Her skin colour and the colour of her hair combined perfectly, especially that her cheeks were still reddened from their earlier activities. Her body was shapely and well proportioned, her muscles like an archers but not distortingly so. He loved every bit of that body and his heart always skipped a beat at the sight. Not now though, it just withered painfully in his chest.

"Which robes would you like to wear today?" It was another little game that they used to play, she would tease him for the amount of choice she thought no man should have in clothes.

"Inconsequential," Thranduil gestured his indifference, his voice sounding lower, more despondent than usual. He watched as her slender, naked body straightened, her firm, cuppable breasts bounced as she stood up. They have made love several times that night and yet it would never be enough. She had busied herself with turning a few knobs and handles, hanging the doors to his large wooden wardrobes open. There were too many to be bothered with all of them, but she had displayed most of his summer garbs. After a short survey, she instinctually picked out a faded red item with a white flowery pattern running down the middle of the arms and with leafy patterns on the collar, a long shirt that would closely fit on his slender form as she would guess he wouldn't want to wear something heavy today. Tight fitting silver breeches to go with it, she liked him most without his cape or several layers of clothing to keep him untouchable on the skin anyway.

Thranduil sat up for her, giving himself over to his fate and thus Tauriel could sit back next to him on the bed and slide the silken material up his arm and onto his shoulders, eying the white marbleness of his smooth chest and neck. She had got to know every inch and nook and cranny of that body, from the many secret battle scars he had acquired over millennia to every peeking out strand of hair that signified he wasn't quite a young elf anymore. She marvelled at the contrast of the uneven, soft curls with the rest of his symmetric form, but they only made him more manly, remote from the ethereal beauty he radiated as a head of a kingdom. This was her private Thranduil, one nobody else had the privilege to, not to her knowledge, not for centuries. Her hands ghosted softly over his ribcage, his latest scars there as if wanting to assure herself that he was completely hale, that she could leave him, then to reach behind him and pull up the shirt his other arm, she moved over and straddled him, not being able to miss how he quickly became erect from just as much of her touch. She tried to keep her hands gentle and caring, making the dressing feel like petting, comforting, calming, speaking of her love in a way she couldn't tell with words or even admit to herself.

Locked and bolted into the numbness of a broken heart, he let her do whatever she wanted with him, handle him like a puppet, button him up, slide down on his legs and onto the floor to pull the breeches up his muscly tights with nothing under. It was only after she pulled his boots up and used his knees to lean on and straighten herself that he looked up and into her eyes, revealing his were wet and dark, "Tauriel, my love.."

"Shh..don't say a thing," she silenced him with a finger to his plum, luscious lips. He grabbed that hand, holding it close to his mouth and kissed it, her knuckles, her expert fingers he would miss so much, one by one. He moved to her arms, nibbling, licking, her shoulders, he kissed her temple, her cheek and the corners of her mouth till he made her arms close around him and her fingers fist in his long hair in similar want. Then placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair, not wanting to let go. If only he could drown in her, there and then. His kiss was deep and desperate and needy and yet it hurt so much he could not bear to endure it anymore, it was too sweet, too loving, too burning. Their eyes locked, saying all there was to say, both knowing this was good bye.

"You will be alright," Tauriel promised. She stood to pull him to his feet. It felt like a sense of loss already, as if his body was no longer complete without hers pressing to his.

"I will be here, on my throne, in Mirkwood. That will not change," he pledged, smiling for her sake, almost illegibly, but it was there. Thranduil planted one more kiss on her forehead before he turned, and let go of her, marching out of his room without turning back. His mask on, he tried to relax so his subjects will never know he suffers, but his stomach felt cold and constricted uncomfortably. It was just in his head, elves did not get sick, he would convince his body one day not to miss her so. Perhaps in a hundred years or two.

The End/Tbc?

P.S. So..originally this was supposed to be it. I was going to try to stay true to Tauriel's character and free spirit, her style of no compromise. But I don't think I can leave it at that. I'm too much of a sappy romantic!


	16. Alien

Here we go by popular demand ;)

Chapter 16: Alien

Eriador, a vast region in the northwest, between the Blue Mountains and the Misty Mountains, hasn't always been like this. Tauriel remembered it for its warm summers and dense woods and thus thought it ideal for a retreat and soul searching. It was well into the unexpected harsh winter however when the archer decided it was far from ideal for childbearing, even if elves hardly ever got into trouble during childbirth. She had indeed intended to do it all on her own, but with ice and snow covering the lands even as far south as the shire, she wasn't so sure anymore the elfling should be born in such circumstances. And then with the frozen Brandywine River it appeared that the white wolves had crossed over and were ravaging the inhabitants of the north, entire flocks of domestic animals falling prey. She couldn't trust herself anymore that she could protect herself and the babe, not during labor at least.

Hence Tauriel began climbing down the Ered Luin, insecure for the first time in her life and apprehensive. Maybe it was too late, maybe she should've stayed in her hideout, even if food was scarce and firewood damp, because the low lying roundness of her huge bump could only suggest she was about to give birth? Always a warrior she had never paid enough attention to womanly matters. She felt heavy and clumsy and with the constant aches and pains, a dodgy back and an increasingly active, kicking child, the archer knew she had to keep being extra vigilant not to miss sneaking wolves that could camouflage in the snow with their white fur. So she was quite surprised that it wasn't white ones, but the great brown wolves that have crept up on her.

Not having time for disbelief, she aimed her arrows swiftly, at least that ability of her has not been compromised by her condition. The animals were huge however, one arrow was usually not enough to kill them instantly and she was running out of ammunition even if she pulled some back out of carcasses to replenish her stash. The former captain of the guard was not one to panic at any case, she had her sword still, and only four wolves were left attacking. She slashed and parried and blood spurt out of one of the beasts' chest. Maybe it wasn't dead, but it would stay down for a while. When claws dug into her shoulder from the back, that's how she knew how to turn and she decapitated another one with one blow. Two down, two to go, but there was pressure she felt in her lower abdomen. Startled, she looked down, no, she couldn't be hurt, not there, not the baby, but then she saw there was nothing to be worried about. She felt nothing but normal, natural contractions. That elfling was choosing the greatest time to try to come into the world. Distracted, she barely managed to avoid a jumping animal and she had no choice, but to roll on the ground having to fear for the welfare of the child once more.

The other animal attacked from the other side, clearly aiming for her neck. Tauriel was more concerned again with the huge weight of the wolf landing on her belly. She blocked the attack, managing to hurl the creature to the side, but lost her sword in the beast's flank. She moved for it hastily, to pull it back out, but by then the first one on the other side caught up with his prey and pounced, flattening the archer to her back. She only had her arms to defend herself with, and she could not see from all the fur blinding her, tears erupting in her eyes from the effort to wrestle with the enemy, with the other, wounded animal roaring in anger and pouncing also. Neither her or the baby would come out of this alive, Tauriel was sure, so she was quite surprised when she felt the weight sag above her. No way she could've choked an angry wolf?

Pulling herself from under, but not quite managing to sit up, she wondered why the other one hadn't attacked yet and then she saw the arrows in both the beasts' heads, right between their eyes. Light brown shafts, yellow fletchings, elegantly sculpted tips. They were like Legolas' arrows, but not quite. Dizzy from the effort of the fight, she pondered whether he has come to rescue her once more like he always had in the past.

Her rescuer hopped down the hill, but Tauriel found it hard to make out his form in the dazzling light of the falling snow and she had no energy to raise herself up at the moment, but as he came closer she saw that he wore a brown fur hat with tied back blond hair peeking out from under and a dark blue cloak that covered his dark leather ensemble, complete with boots and the same colour and material of gloves. From his stature, he must've been an elf, but it was peculiar to meet one so far out of Mirkwood and in those uncharacteristic clothes nonetheless. It was not before he set his quiver down next to her and leaned over that she could see his beautiful face.

"Tauriel, are you hurt?" Thranduil hovered with his hands in the air, unsure if he should touch her and where.

"I...I don't know. There's something flowing down my legs," she touched her lower half instinctively, bewildered.

"It doesn't look like blood on you," he shook his head. There was some under her but he hoped that must've been the wolf's? He reached behind her shoulders to raise her up towards him, to his chest, "are you sure you're alright?" He planted a kiss on her forehead, like many times before, his signature indicator of his affections towards her.

"If I'm not having visions?" She looked up to feel him, trace his face, his lips, like a blind person would, "is it really you? What, how? Since when do you shoot like that?"

"Since ever? Who do you think taught Legolas archery?" He shrugged his mantle off and brought a hand round to cover her with the item, "you're wet, down there. You need to keep warm or you'll freeze."

Tauriel was still staring at him, clinging to him in disbelief, "why aren't you sitting on a throne in Mirkwood? You know, always there? What's with these clothes? Where's the guard?"

"The guard is in Mirkwood as it should be. Findecand is taking care of affairs while the elvenking is away on a diplomatic visit to Hollin."

"The elvenking? But Hollin isn't this way."

"Indeed. Tauriel, can you walk? We have wasted enough time with talk. Your waters broke and you can't give birth in the middle of a snowstorm." He searched her features, concerned. "Though, I've had worse." He added as an afterthought.

"You've seen what the wolf did. Do you think the baby's alright? I don't feel it kicking." She ignored his question.

"I don't know Tauriel," he replied earnestly, sad eyes gazing apologetically, "but we need to move," he placed his other arm other her legs as she didn't move and lifted her up.

"I can walk, I can walk," she insisted, stretching her legs and making him put her down.

"Are you sure?" He moved to support her by the arms instead and checking her back, "those claw marks aren't deep but they need cleaned."

"I have more than one occasion decimated entire orc squadrons. Yes Thrandy, I can walk," she established. "Why are you here alone?" It was confusing not seeing him with an entourage.

"I can't possibly bring my warriors on private missions. They need to stay where they are, protect the land. I used to travel light like this in my youth a lot, like Legolas" he explained, "though it was a long time ago," he smiled reminiscing, but then Tauriel grabbed onto his arm with both hands, stopping. Eyes wide, she leaned into his chest, bending over, "just..just give me a moment," she panted.

"You have contractions," Thranduil stated the obvious, somewhat panicked, "how many and how far apart?"

"I don't know Thranduil," she ground out. "I was too preoccupied fighting a bunch of wolves to count. But they were quite random I think. I kind realize now that the backache that came and went before could've been contractions too?" She acknowledged sheepishly. She was really bad at these womenfolk affairs.

"We need to count till the next one then." He had waited till her features softened and her grip eased, then picked her up once more, "no arguments. If you walk, the contractions will come more rapidly and we're too far from shelter."

"We're too far from shelter in any case. You can't carry me all the way to the shire."

"I won't have to. I have a mount," he assured her. Tauriel looked in the direction they stumbled towards, Thranduil knees deep in snow with the added weight. At the bottom of the hill there was an elk that looked up at them when they appeared and started trotting up in their direction.

"Where do you get these?" Tauriel marvelled, burying her face in Thranduil's hides. He didn't need to see the intense pain marred on her face. Was childbirth really this painful so early on?

"He got his antlers stuck in a tree branch. He would've perished, I helped him out," he gestured to the animal to stoop so that he could place the woman on its back. Balancing Tauriel on the mount with one hand, he followed suit, only glancing at his hand briefly when he noticed it was covered in blood after he pulled it out from under her. There was no neead to alarm her. He embraced her with his other hand, keeping her secure for the ride.

"Thranduil.." Tauriel squeezed his lapel with trembling hands. This contraction didn't want to end. Could warrior herself be reduced to a wailing mess in a matter of minutes? She tried to concentrate on something in particular instead of how every movement and jostle sent spasms down her back and legs, something wet still seeping out between her legs. "You said you had worse? Than a snowstorm? Where was Legolas born?"

"In the safety of my father's castle."

"Then.."

"Don't ask, not now," Thranduil glanced at her, looking for the quickest passage through the woods, but she understood as much that the worse he wouldn't mention could have only been a tragedy.

"This isn't a birth." She realized with certainty, dread numbing her heart. She didn't know much about such matters, but it felt nothing like it. "There's something wrong isn't it?" She looked up at his rigid expression. The mask was never needed when it was just the two of them alone. But she already knew anyway how her strength was leaving her fast.

"Wargs and hounds," the king in disguise indicated with this head behind them, avoiding her real question. The beasts have been no doubt attracted by the trail made of drips of blood they were leaving behind.

"I'm sorry Thranduil," she whispered, tears starting to spill. She had no arrow and she was in no fighting shape and she had been stupid enough to think herself self-sufficient so far away from civilization and she had endangered and probably killed their child just because she was too proud and defiant to stay safe. And yet he was here and the concern in his eyes was only for her.

The solitary king ripped the elk's reins off, strapping them round his shoulders and around her to secure her to himself, "I need my hands," he pulled out an arrow and aimed his bow, "can you hold on?"

Tauriel wanted to tell him that she could, but her hands were loosening their grip on his garments, her vision got fuzzy and her body felt numb. The pain was constant but it could do nothing to stop her from falling into the darkness of the abyss.

Tbc

(I'm sorry for not giving trigger warnings but that would've been spoilerish. Same with the next chapter.)


	17. Burrow

Chapter 17: Burrow

The first thing that Tauriel became aware of was that she couldn't move her legs. Not because she lacked the strength or the ability to shift them, but because every time she tried, her toes bumped into hard wood. Feeling wedged, she opened her eyes to find herself on her side, staring at ugly, brown bed covers, a miniature desk with a multitude of vials and writing implements on it, weird looking character portraits on the wall and most of all walls and a ceiling, so close it felt confined. Wherever this was, she had to get out. The archer raised herself on one elbow, only to bump her head into the metal headboard, with soft hands immediately coming up around her to help her turn and settle onto a pillow. "Are we with the dwarves on Iron Hill?" She wondered based on the size of things around her. Thranduil was also sitting down by the bed on the floor, he would probably have difficulties sitting higher, never mind standing and this time, he was wearing something more elegant, a long tunic and a finely embroidered wool coat, more fitting to his status than the ordinary hunter garb it was a shock seeing him in earlier.

"Good Valinor, no!" The king chuckled, "we're with the Halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons."

Her next thought was with the child. She reached to touch her belly, panicking to see it flat and hidden under the covers. "Calm down," Thranduil moved again to embrace her, gathering her in his arms, "everything is all right. Our elfling will be well, the healers here assure me. The hobbit seems to be rather skillful at keeping him content with a mix of horse and kine milk."

"He?" Tauriel searched his face, unbelieving.

"Yes. His lungs were filled with fluid when he came out but don't worry, he can breathe close to natural now. I didn't name him because I wanted to give you the chance to see him first. Come, you need to drink," he held a small cup to her lips, "you've slept for days. I managed to make you swallow some water at times, but it's not enough."

"How could I give birth? I was unconscious," she shook her head bewildered as soon as her mouth was free and he wasn't trying to make her drink, "I thought I killed him.." She tormented herself, face contorting in mortification of what could've been.

"Be glad you were unconscious. At least you missed all the anguish," he smiled with a touch of sadness that let her know that he on turn, did not miss any of the angst, torment and burden he had to go through experiencing all that uncertainty and trepidation that would've come from their predicament.

"What happened?" Tauriel was still confused over how it could all turn out well, "the hounds? All the blood? How did we get here?"

"I just rode, as fast as I could. I didn't know if either of you was alive, but I didn't have time to stop and check. I thought the faster I get here, the more chance there is that I could save you. So it was really Fastitofax who saved us."

"Who?"

"I did take the liberty to name the elk," Thranduil quipped.

"Can I see the baby?" Tauriel longed, she would not truly believe the fates were favourable till she could see it with her own eyes.

"Of course, niphredil," her savior kissed her temple, then turned his head a little, "I know you've been eavesdropping the whole time halfling, step in," he raised his voice only marginally.

Bilbo shuffled in, with a bundle that looked huge in his arms, "sorry! Good morning! Or afternoon. But morning to you, since you just woke up," he garbled, "welcome to my hole! My home-hole in Baggins that is. It is in the ground of course, but not a foul, gloomy, damp hole full of worms and oozy smells. This is of course a hobbit hole and that means decent food, a warm fireplace, and all the luxuries of a home as you see esteemed Tauriel, good friend of dwarves!"

Thranduil frowned, sickened. "Just hand over my son," he barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes, but the Halfling deserved as much for offering, or more like not objecting to offering shelter too much and venturing out in doomsday weather to call round all the midwives and healers he could bribe in a ten mile range in the shire.

"Fair enough," Bilbo stepped closer, taking care when shifting the weight in his arms, "a light from shadows, this babe, a king's jewel, never doubted he would endure. All the same he is pillaging the pantry even though he can't even walk and I do want to become an un-nurse, as soon as it pleases his majesty?"

"You will be rewarded aplenty for your service," Thranduil promised, holding the child to himself delicately. His eyes lingered on the red fluff that was the beginning of growing hair, same coloured cute little eyelashes that blinked at him, the child locking eyes with him, inspecting him back just as intently as his father watched him.

As much as her groaning body allowed, Tauriel peered up, heart exulting with excitement when the baby was finally placed on her chest. She looked him up and down in wonder, cupping the little cheek, fingering the little fist that attached to her thumb. "His color, is he alright?" She agonized. Weren't babies supposed to be pink?

"He was almost entirely blue at first. I can assure you, he is a lot better than he was, he is fine and he is perfect," Thranduil assured her, helping her sit up higher. The baby turned his head towards her, butting into her chest. "I think he wants to feed already," he marveled, "what a clever little elf, he knows who his mother is."

"Correction, he tried to do that with me too," Bilbo interjected, but the elvenking gave him a disapproving enough look to make him want to shuffle out, "right. Private. Taking it back, the words. We, Hobbits, are plain quiet folk," he stepped out his bedroom's threshold, but still kept in earshot of course.

Tauriel fumbled with the buttons of the clean shirt she was dressed in, but she was tired and weak and had no idea how she would nurse. Was it something you have to learn or will it just come to her? Thranduil nodded at her, asking for permission, then reached out and helped with the last couple of knobs, but didn't dare sit on the little bed. It would probably collapse with the three elves.

The redhead swallowed, tears in her eyes. Not for one moment had he acted, been like the elvenking ever since he came for her, not with her. It was the man, her lover, the real Thranduil who looked at her reassuringly and admiringly at the same time. What was there to admire? The elfling, for sure, but that wasn't to her credit. She messed up instead and will have no right to oppose him in the future. She will be meek and deserving of his love. "He's sucking," the proud dad started, "he's found the nipple himself," he grinned.

All these miracles and wonders of life and none were down to her. "I want you to name him."

Thranduil nodded, looking like he was only given what he had the right to, for the first time. "I would name him Oropher after my father. He has always allowed me as much freedom as it was at all possible and freedom is what this child represents. Freedom from rules and class and country and your drive and liberty to keep free."

"I may have..made a mistake with that," Tauriel acknowledged.

The king sobered, expression schooling from affectionate and doting father to responsible parent, "you are coming back with us to Mirkwood," he ascertained. He would not let go on his son and he would not let her go voyaging, endangering the child again. He had an entire elven army stationing outside so that he could ensure safe passage home for his offspring. This was no private matter anymore, not since he had found out about the babe.

"I am," Tauriel agreed without bother, complaint or discontent, leaning her heavy head on his chest.

"Good. You need to drink some more so you have enough milk," he turned into a mix of royal condescending and concerned ada. It was endearing.

Tbc


	18. Potential

Chapter 18: Potential

Twenty-Nine Years Later

(Please bear in mind that elven children mature slower and are not fully grown adults till they are close to a hundred)

Legolas looked up at the imposing edifice that housed the Elvenking's Halls as he crossed the bridge that led to the hidden archways. Not much has changed around here, not even the identity of the pair of guards that would be on duty in the morning of an ordinary day. The elf, still clad in green and brown colours even if in different clothes than he had left in, had pondered if inside it would also look the same. He hadn't heard much at all about the Silvan Kingdom of Mirkwood during his self exposed exile, which could only mean that his father still kept to his usual policy of not interfering in the affairs of others outside his lands if he could at all help it, valuing peace above all; it meant that the elves still kept to themselves, generally looking down on different species. The lack of word also unnerved him somewhat. No news meant no war, no physical danger, but would that necessarily mean he will find his father well? Thranduil had always been too lonesome, too despondent, too unreachable. What if his son's disappearance made the king even more reserved and snooty, unhappy and isolated? Detached from the world? What if Legolas then would be received with rebuff and a cold shoulder? No matter, there were things Thranduil in his status as the Elvenking and not his father had to know and he hoped that if he extended past allies' pleas for assistance against Dol Goldur, Thanduil will not turn his back on them.

"My Lord, Legolas!" The sentinel Coamenel exclaimed, "can I believe my eyes!" He gloated joyously.

"Good man!" Legolas dismounted his horse and placed the reins in the sentry's hands, "does my father preside over at the halls? Is he at home?" He hoped.

"Most certainly, my price," the guard assured him, "go ahead," he cheered him on.

Legolas stepped under the giant archways, scene of his childhood, where he used to play with all the children growing up among these walls from Anwarunya who later became a healer to Celebrindal, the field marshal and Tauriel as well. Even though she promised, the prince of Mirkwood thought it unlikely he would find her here. She had never gotten along with her father and thirty more years could've not helped their animosity. He knew she only wanted to console him running after him when he departed anyway, she never really meant what she said. Legolas would've been curious to know what had become of her, but he wasn't sure he could cope with seeing her again. With serious wars brewing, he would not want the distraction, having to figure out if he still cared for her or not. He didn't have time to contemplate on that however as a small boy jumped out from behind an archway and held a carefully crafted, ornate sword to the newcomer's chest. "Who goes there and what dealings you have in these halls!" The child with long, red hair demanded, more curiously rather than threateningly. Legolas of course remembered how rare of an occurrence it was to see somebody enter from the forest who had not been there before.

"Oh! Oh!" Elrodit came running down the stairs, "what surprise! We never got word of your imminent arrival! Your father will be so glad!" He skidded to a halt in front of Legolas, then turned to the small elf, "lower your sword at once, my lord," he tried to sound firm with the young, smirking child, but was apparently failing miserable at making him do as he was told and it was obvious it was a frequent struggle between them from the elder's desperate gesturing. "Your teachers will be wondering where you are. You should be in the study hall learning Sindarin, Oropher."

"What should a dead language aid me with?" The kid opposed, but he did lower his sword.

Oropher. The sophisticated clothing, the tilt of his head. The cocky and complacent attitude. The full lips, the dense eyebrows, the graceful movements. Elrodit's nervous, yet humble and dutiful manner. And who on middle earth would have the audacity to name their child Oropher in Mirkwood apart from the one who's rightful heritage and right it would've been. Legolas reeled back, eyebrows raised. The boy was his brother? "Did my father remarry?" The master bowman asked warily.

"No, my prince," Elrodit turned to honor the elder son of the king.

"I'm your prince, not him," the youngster demanded somewhat perplexed.

"Both are correct," Elrodit sighed. He didn't particularly care to be the one who shared this exact knowledge with the two princes, "my Lord, this is Oropher Thranduillon and my price, this is our heir Legolas Thranduillon." He made the formal introductions.

Oropher tilted his head in amazement, then his eyes started sparkling with glee. He literally jumped once, "Legolas! Are all the stories true?"

"Depends on what stories, hin?" Legolas allowed cautiously.

"That you can shoot backwards without looking and also hanging upside down? That you can start the rain by shooting into clouds? That you saved the king from a Fell Beast with one of his heavy own bows when you were nothing but an infant? When you.."

"Hey, hey, slow down, one by one, honeg," Legolas shook his head in confusion, "upside down is correct, I would require some sort of idea of what's behind me, but in theory, yes, I was younger than you with the Fell Beast, but not quite an infant and I'm sure Ada would've handled it just fine and I did try with the clouds, but I'm not sure it was my arrow that made it rain," he chuckled, amused. "Whoever told you this stuff?"

"Adar," Oropher ascertained, "he also told me you like teaching children," he added impishly.

"You'll need to wait with that," Valandil appeared, beaconing the child to him. Legolas hadn't seen the old, stern teacher for centuries but Thranduil must've located him somewhere. "You're behind with your translations," he admonished, then turned a rare smile at Legolas, "le suilon, Legolas. Gi nathlam herth!"

"I wish to study the art of combat today," Oropher announced, making Legolas raise his eyebrows. He himself never dared to argue with the elderly elf, perhaps because he was the oldest one he ever knew without losing them to fading.

"Your study plan was drawn up with your father. Do not oppose the king," Erodit tried.

"Not on a day when my unaccounted for brother is back, surely?" The young prince wouldn't leave.

"Oropher." Thranduil's solemn voice came from behind Valandil. The little elf turned, expression changed to schooled and regal as he sheeted his sword and marched out in a dignified manner. But not before turning back once he had passed his father, "afterwards, brother." He beamed. He was followed by the teacher and Elrodit and clearly both were needed to keep the boy in check.

Legolas couldn't help it. Despite the seriousness of his mission and his apprehension over meeting his father and his insecurities about what he was going to find, he had to burst out laughing and slapped the discomfited, departing Elrodit in the shoulder in his amusement, "well, that little imp. He has the whole royal and commandeering affair down pat more than I ever will," he addressed his approaching father.

"Welcome home, ion," Thranduil nodded slowly, raising a fist to his heart. In truth he would've wanted to hug his eldest, but he wasn't sure how Legolas would react to this new, heavily Tauriel influenced, more touch oriented king if privacy allowed for such luxuries.

"I can see there are some changes around here," Legolas marveled, still rather thrown.

"And I hope the changes aren't completely against your liking," his father ventured, looking almost guarded and the amount of emotion in his eyes also confused the homecoming prince.

"I'm sure Oropher is a refreshing addition to the court," the younger elf held.

"I trust your travels were fruitful in resulting in a wish to settle down?" Thranduil enquired.

"They could've been," Legolas assured, "but there's oppression and danger looming in the north, with many succumbing to the power of the One Ring, with their side getting stronger. You don't know what's out there," he hoped he didn't have to fight the old argument of Thranduil not caring for outsiders, "because now I came to fear for the survival of our people."

Thranduil nodded, "we will discuss everything in my halls," he offered. Legolas was still standing a lot further from him than he would've wished.

"Thrandy are you all right?" A green flash with red hair raced to block Thranduil's path, "are you injured?"

"No, calm down. There has been no new assassination attempt," the king responded.

"Then why am I being hastened up here on emergency flags waving everywhere to aid you!" A feisty Tauriel shoved at the king angrily, making Legolas' mouth outright drop. The day he had left those two had a confrontation where he had to interfere but have these clashes become daily between them and why did his father allow it and why was Tauriel still here in that case? And what kind of bizarre address was 'Thrandy' anyway?

"Is Oropher well?" Tauriel added as an afterthought, paling.

"Yes," Thranduil assured her and grabbed her shoulders to turn her towards Legolas standing by the shadowy pillars, "this is why you were called".

She breathed deeply and fast at his sight, stuck between wanting to rush to him and being held back by uncertainty, the same way as Thranduil had been. "Does he know?" She whispered.

"Do I know what?" Legolas asked, more confused than ever.

It was time to not delay the inevitable anymore and attach some balls. "Legolas, mell-ion, Oropher is my and Tauriel's son." Thranduil dared, "he takes after his mother in defiance."

Legolas tilted his head, not unlike how Oropher did earlier, "how did that happen?" He sighed, hurt trickling through his level headed thinking.

"The..usual way?" Tauriel winced, entangling her fingers with Thranduil's.

"I see," Legolas pronounced evenly and icily. "Are my rooms intact?" He solicited haughtily. There were issues that needed discussed, like at least the possibility of Thranduil's dungeons being used to keep certain stoor hobbits captured, but he couldn't quite talk to them about anything at the moment.

"Your rooms are as you left them," Thranduil assured, hoping to appease him in any way possible.

"I need some rest," Legolas declared, leaving the anxious lovers looking at each other, uneasy.

"At least he didn't turn around to leave?" Tauriel offered, squeezing Thranduil's hand in comfort. They had tried to prepare themselves for this occasion for years and yet it didn't seem any easier than they've imagined.

Tbc


	19. Grant

Chapter 19: Grant

"Are you still in there?" Tauriel knocked on Legolas' door the next day. Although nobody had seen the prince leave and he had ordered some cake and miruvor over the night, she had this niggling uneasiness filling her thoughts that maybe he departed in secret after all. "Please give me a chance to explain things?" She waited outside his chambers. "I don't want to do it through the wood, this is more personal than that, it wouldn't feel right. It would probably sound all wrong." The archer sighed. She could sit down on the stairs and wait, but did she really know he was in there? "Legolas I beg you. We were friends once. Let me honour that friendship if I can't pay homage to anything else."

The prince's door opened abruptly. "Tauriel." He stated, his expression emotionless and unyielding. Perhaps he was his father's son after all.

"I'm sorry Legolas." She tried nevertheless.

"You don't need to be. Or haven't we had this conversation before?" The prince hinted.

"I just want you to know that never throughout this whole situation had we the intention of wanting to hurt you, not me, nor your father," she wanted to confirm.

Legolas harrumphed. "Now this I'm too curious not to hear," he sat down beside her on the steps, "the story of how on Eru Iluvatar's green pastures did you two manage to become a 'we'!"

"That's a long tale, but in nutshell, I knew he understood the weight of my sorrows the moment I looked up at him from mourning Kili."

"And I didn't?"

"It was a slightly different type of sorrow. And then there was my guilt that Thranduil almost died of his injuries because of me."

"Wait, what?"

"He was hurt up there on Ravenhill but didn't tell anyone and then the wound got infected so I tried to help as much as I could to make up for the wrongs. You don't know how many foolish ventures I started before I realized that his cautious ways were so for a reason. But it was ultimately him who pursued me. You need ask him why he fell in love with me because it beats me."

"That, I understand," Legolas offered. "He fell in love with you. But then he knocked you up and he would not marry you to this day. Figures and it's immoral."

"No, no, you don't understand. He proposed, several times. I think he's kind of given up lately, but yes. It is me who prefers to keep my freedom. I can travel often and whenever I wish this way, Thranduil has to come in disguise whenever he joins me. Can you imagine me keeping to customs and court practices as a queen?"

"That, no, but you are fit to be a queen, never doubt that," Legolas encouraged. "Do you love him? Do you love my father? You can tell me, I won't be mad, I promise. Much water has passed under the bridge since my infatuation with you."

"You're not infatuated anymore?"

"I can say with reasonable certainty that I am not. There will be a care for you in my heart that will never die, but I realise that I will only ever want your happiness, I figured that out last night. It helped that I had to admit that sometimes your name didn't pop into my head for months while I was away. So tell me Tauriel, does your heart truly belong to my father?"

"I'm so glad you understand," Tauriel rejoiced. "He has proven himself to me manifold and once I knew the real Thranduil, the lost, suffering, needy, devoted and affectionate Thranduil, I could never unlove him, I just wrestled with my pride for a while. He is my one, my soulmate, my companion. Are you really not scandalized?"

"Somehow, I'm not," Legolas assured. "I want you both happy. I was just shocked that's all."

"Your father will be glad to have your blessing," Tauriel sighed relieved.

"I doubt my father needs my blessing," Legolas griped.

"You are so wrong! Thranduil had missed you immensely. He would tell you so himself, if you'd let him. He's waiting for you in the halls," Tauriel took Legolas' hand to pull him with her.

"You have changed him, haven't you?" Legolas marveled.

"I would say I brought him back from the ashes to how he was before he lost your mother. Old Melvasul told me that."

"You made me very curious," the prince admitted, "again."

"Come then," she encouraged, "oh and Oropher has hardly let us sleep last night pestering us about when he can parry with you. I wish he didn't, but he prefers daggers," Tauriel rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't mind indulging him at some point, would you?"

The End.

P. S. So that adorable lost in himself little boy Joe Macmillan. I shall try to make him happy next.


End file.
